by Tammy Drennan

Leadership – Above all, I want my children to lead, not follow. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want them to always be in charge or to head up corporations. I just want to be certain that in any given situation they feel so confident in themselves and their convictions that they’ll set the standard of behavior rather than follow that of others.

Kindness – There is no excuse for being unkind to another human being. This is a character trait that must be inculcated in children from the time they’re very young. Sometimes you must be firm or even stern, but never unkind.

Humor – The ability to laugh at yourself when you make a silly mistake or to indulge in a little self-deprecating humor goes a long way in relationships, as well as personal satisfaction. Ditto the willingness to laugh with others (but never at them).

Empathy – We say it but I’m not sure we believe it – you can never understand another person until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. If you can’t walk a mile in his shoes, you can cut him a little slack. I’m not talking about making excuses for poor or wrong behavior – just making sure that all interactions with others are conducted in the spirit of understanding rather than self-righteousness.

Conflict Resolution – This is the willingness to maturely and calmly face differences and work through them, even when the other party is reluctant.

Helpfulness – I want my children to be able to quickly recognize a need and be the first ones to jump in to help. That need may be physical and require some muscle or it may be emotional and require a kind word or deed.

Reverence for Life – Is this a social skill? Obviously, it’s much more than that, but reverence for life is the attitude that helps us treat others as we would like to be treated, even if they’re different from us.

Small Talk – This is a tough one in our house where even our humor tends toward the heavy side. But it’s a skill that proves useful in social situations – being able to easily banter back and forth for limited amounts of time about trivial topics like the weather or whatever little things are going on around you.

Selflessness – By this I mean the habit of focusing on others rather than on self. This may be one of the most important and least possessed social skills on the planet. How often do you talk with someone who is more interested in you than in herself?

Listening – To truly listen to others is to revolutionize your relationships. Listen with your attention so fully on the other person that you actually begin to take an interest and ask follow-up questions rather than jump in with your own stories or experiences.

by Tammy Drennan (Written in 2000)

You would think that after fifteen years of home schooling I would have a quick, quippy answer to the question, "Why do you home school?" But my reasons involve issues that don't lend themselves to sound-bites. They cover topics such as the long-term damaging effects of institutionalizing kids and the crime of treating children like computers, trying to program in specified amounts of information at a steady, unthinking pace.

Since I have more than just "sound-bite room" here, I will try to give something of a summary of my motives for home schooling.

1. Academics. At home my children can learn more and learn it more deeply than anywhere else. Learning is relevant to life.

2. Resources. At home we have access to truly good books and other resources. We are not tied to shallow textbooks or single sources of information. We have easy access to endless points of view. We can truly research topics.

3. Communication. Talking is one of the most important aspects of education -- talking about what we learn and think, learning to express our thoughts and learning the give and take of debate (real debate, not school debate). My children and I spend hours at a time talking through our ideas, honing our thinking and communication skills.

4. Socialization. Institutional schools do enough damage in this area alone to make all the challenges of home schooling worthwhile. I want my children to be confident, able to communicate effectively in any situation and able to empathize with people of all ages and cultures. It may one of the ultimate ironies of modern society that while schools claim special ability in these areas, in reality they are the perpetrators of just the opposite. Most children operate in a survival mode in school. This makes them necessarily completely self-absorbed, which is not usually considered a social skill.

5. Self-determination. I was in fourth grade when I realized that I was a prisoner, that my teachers were running my whole life. They could tell me what to read and deprive me of time to read what I wanted to. They could tell me what to do and when to do it. Nearly every move I made was based on an order they issued. Is it any wonder so many young people enter the workforce unable to make even simple decisions or take simple actions without being told what to do? When life throws problems their way, they think only of turning to some authority for help. It does not occur to most to try first to help themselves, to better their lives with their own skills. They become sheep, waiting to be cared for and bleating loudly if someone doesn't respond quickly enough.

6. Tenacity. I want my kids to have the ability and the freedom to see a thing through, and I want them to understand that many things in life require weeks, months and even years of hard work. I don't want them to think that because they spent a week on the Civil War chapter in a history book they know something about the Civil War. I want them to become tenacious, deep learners, doggedly pursuing knowledge and truth and understanding.

7. Creativity. I'll wrap up with this point. I want my children to be producers more than they are consumers, and this takes an active, creative and free mind. When they sit at a computer, I want them to be more likely to create something than to search for entertainment. When they read a book or see a movie, I want their minds to be so active that these things are fuel rather than pacifiers. When they hear music, I want it to inspire them rather than lull them. All this takes a mind that has been vigorously exercised -- and vigorously free.

by Tammy Drennan

Two women meet at a playground, where their children are swinging and playing ball. The women are sitting on a bench watching. Eventually, they begin to talk.

W1: Hi. My name is Maggie. My kids are the three in red shirts -- helps me keep track of them.

W2: (Smiles) I'm Terri. Mine are in the pink and yellow shirts. Do you come here a lot?

W1: Usually two or three times a week, after we go to the library.

W2: Wow. Where do you find the time?

W1: We home school, so we do it during the day most of the time.

W2: Some of my neighbors home school, but I send my kids to public school.

W1: How do you do it?

W2: It's not easy. I go to all the PTO meetings and work with the kids every day after school and stay real involved.

W1: But what about socialization? Aren't you worried about them being cooped up all day with kids their own ages, never getting the opportunity for natural relationships?

W2: Well, yes. But I work hard to balance that. They have some friends who're home schooled, and we visit their grandparents almost every month.

W1: Sounds like you're a very dedicated mom. But don't you worry about all the opportunities they're missing out on? I mean they're so isolated from real life -- how will they know what the world is like -- what people do to make a living -- how to get along with all different kinds of people?

W2: Oh, we discussed that at PTO, and we started a fund to bring real people into the classrooms. Last month, we had a policeman and a doctor come in to talk to every class. And next month, we're having a woman from Japan and a man from Kenya come to speak.

W1: Oh, we met a man from Japan in the grocery store the other week, and he got to talking about his childhood in Tokyo. My kids were absolutely fascinated. We invited him to dinner and got to meet his wife and their three children.

W2: That's nice. Hmm. Maybe we should plan some Japanese food for the lunchroom on Multicultural Day.

W1: Maybe your Japanese guest could eat with the children.

W2: Oh, no. She's on a very tight schedule. She has two other schools to visit that day. It's a system-wide thing we're doing.

W1: Oh, I'm sorry. Well, maybe you'll meet someone interesting in the grocery store sometime and you'll end up having them over for dinner.

W2: I don't think so. I never talk to people in the store -- certainly not people who might not even speak my language. What if that Japanese man hadn't spoken English?

W1: To tell you the truth, I never had time to think about it. Before I even saw him, my six-year-old had asked him what he was going to do with all the oranges he was buying.

W2: Your child talks to strangers?

W1: I was right there with him. He knows that as long as he's with me, he can talk to anyone he wishes.

W2: But you're developing dangerous habits in him. My children never talk to strangers.

W1: Not even when they're with you?

W2: They're never with me, except at home after school. So you see why it's so important for them to understand that talking to strangers is a big no-no.

W1: Yes, I do. But if they were with you, they could get to meet interesting people and still be safe. They'd get a taste of the real world, in real settings. They'd also get a real feel for how to tell when a situation is dangerous or suspicious.

W2: They'll get that in the third and fifth grades in their health courses.

W1: Well, I can tell you're a very caring mom. Let me give you my number -- if you ever want to talk, give me call. It was good to meet you.  

by Tammy Drennan

Home schooler Hildegard Happy worked at the art museum in her town. She was 17 years old and loved her job and was on very good terms with all her fellow employees. But Hildegard's boss often questioned her about being home schooled and was quite sure that Hildy, as people called her, was missing out on something.

One day, Hildy's mom stopped by to drop off some lunch for her, and Hildy's boss, Mr. Artfellow, took the opportunity to confront her. "Mrs. Happy, I want you to know what a good worker Hildy is," he began.

"Why, thank you," said Mrs. Happy.

"Yes," said Mr. Artfellow distractedly. "She's always on time and is very friendly with the visitors. But... well, it may not be any concern of mine, but it seems she must miss not hanging out with other kids. You know, all the social stuff."

Mrs. Happy was a little surprised, but she replied happily (she took her name quite seriously), "Hanging out?"

"Well, that's what teenagers do -- they hang out.  You know -- at the mall."

"Oh, well, Hildy doesn't really care for the mall. She prefers places like this."

"What I mean is that she doesn't do teenage things -- social things -- hanging out."

Mrs. Happy was mildly perplexed. "I know many teenagers, but I don't know any who hang out. All the ones I know are busy pursuing their hobbies and goals. But I'm interested in your point -- I think maybe I just don't quite understand it. Do you know many teenagers?"

"Well, I know the ones who work here and a few in my neighborhood."

"Do they hang out at the mall?"

Mr. Artfellow chuckled at the thought of the teens who worked for him hanging out anywhere. "Not the ones who work here -- they're, you know, nerdy types. I mean, well, I don't mean Hildy, of course. But they go to school -- they get their socialization there."

"I guess I don't know what you mean by socialization." Mrs. Happy was trying to understand precisely what Mr. Artfellow meant.

"You know -- they spend a lot of time with kids their own age. That's important."

"Why?"

"Because -- it teaches them things, like how to get along with people and how to deal with people who aren't like them, cooperation, and stuff like that."

Mrs. Happy was more than a little surprised. "It does?" was all she could manage at first, but when Mr. Artfellow did not reply, she continued. "I suppose I don't understand how this could be true. Americans have been sending their children to school for over 100 years, but people don't seem any more able to get along and cooperate now than they ever did. Actually, it seems they are even less able now. And it seems they are just as unable to relate to those who are different from them. Hildy has never had trouble relating to people or getting along with anyone. She gets along beautifully with her brothers and sisters, her co-workers, her fellow home schoolers, and according to you, the visitors at the museum. She's happy with her life and is pursuing the goals she's set for

herself. I think I must still be missing your point."

Mr. Artfellow thought for a moment. "But she won't get to go to the prom."

Mrs. Happy smiled and said nicely, "Oh yes, the prom. Isn't it sad that so many people's lives seem to end after high school? All the best things happen before the age of eighteen and it's just downhill from there -- but at least there's the prom to look back on, and maybe a football victory or a stint as a cheerleader. I'm so glad my life has improved since high school, because my prom turned out just awful for me. I spilled my food into my lap, then got sick and had to leave early. It was so embarrassing -- I thought I would never be able to live with the

humiliation and disappointment, but the next day I started a job with a local vet and forgot all about the prom. I even forgot all about high school -- I was so excited to finally be part of the real world."

Mr. Artfellow smiled at some passing visitors then laughed, "You know, I never thought of it like that. To tell you the truth, I hated high school, and I didn't even go to the prom. The girl I wanted to take thought the whole thing was stupid. I was pretty mad at her at the time -- she was one of those independent, non-conformist types -- but I ended up marrying her. Now I've got a wonderful wife and job."

"Isn't it great to finally be free to live on your own terms, without anyone to tell you what's good for you, how many friends you should have and what you should do with your time?" asked Mrs. Happy. "I think I was 25 before near strangers stopped feeling free to question my choices and demand that I explain every aspect of my life."

Mr. Artfellow smiled, "Point well-taken, Mrs. Happy."

And with that, they shook hands and parted, reflecting on the improvement of their lives since their ill-fated proms.

by Tammy Drennan

Johnny has just come home from his friend Joey's house. His father is relaxing in the living room, reading the evening paper.

Dad: Well, Johnny, did you have a good time?

Johnny: Uh-huh. Dad, why do I have to go to school?

Dad: Well, you want an education, don't you?

Johnny: Yes. But I could learn by myself.

Dad: How would you know what to study?

Johnny: I would study everything I was interested in.

Dad: Hmm. What if you forgot something important?

Johnny: Like what?

Dad: Well, like learning when World War II was.

Johnny: Joey's grandpa fought in World War II. He knows almost everything about it, and he had to top going to school in the fourth grade, because his parents needed him to help on the farm.

Dad: World War II is something Joey's grandpa is very interested in, but you never fought in a war, so you might forget to learn things like that.

Johnny: I could ask people I know what they think is really important, and they could tell me everything they know about it. Joey's grandpa knows more about World War II than Joey's dad. And Joey's dad went to college.

Dad: Well, schools know what order you should learn things in. You might learn things at the wrong time and get mixed up.

Johnny: You mean like learning to read in first grade and learning cursive in third grade?

Dad: That's right.

Johnny: But I knew how to read before I went to school, and Joey's grandpa still doesn't know any cursive, except how to sign his name. And he writes all the time.

Dad: But wouldn't his life be easier if he knew cursive? And now he's so old, it would probably be very hard for him to learn it.

Johnny: I guess. Would your life be easier if you knew how to fix cars?

Dad: Heh, heh. Definitely.

Johnny: What's the right age to learn that?

Dad: Well, uh, there really isn't a right age, I suppose.

Johnny: Do you think you're too old to learn?

Dad: No. But I don't have the motivation to learn. Uncle Don can work on our car.

Johnny: What's motivation?

Dad: It's when you want to do something because you have a reason for it -- maybe you just love it or maybe you need to know how to do it.

Johnny: Oh, 'cause one time Joey's grandpa said he didn't have any motivation to learn cursive.

Later that night.

Johnny: Dad, what does com-pul-sor-y mean?

Dad: You did a good job on that big word. It means you have to do something.

Johnny: My teacher says school is com-pulsory.

Dad: Yes, that's right.

Johnny: Thomas Edison didn't go to school.

Dad: Well, that was a long time ago.

Johnny: Why is school compulsory?

Dad: Because it's important for children to get an education.

Johnny: Who made it compulsory?

Dad: Government.

Johnny: But Thomas Edison didn't go to school, and he was the greatest inventor in the whole world. And Abraham Lincoln didn't go to school. They learned by themselves. Joey's grandpa said so.

Dad: Things were different when they were growing up.

Johnny: How?

Dad: Uh, well, there wasn't as much to know then.

Johnny: Do you know as much as Thomas Edison did?

Dad: No - not nearly as much, I must admit.

Johnny: But you went to college. And I heard on the news that a lot of people can't even read when they're finished with school. Four kids in my class can't read.

Dad: Well, they're only in the fourth grade. They still have time -- they're young.

Johnny: But I thought you said it was important to learn things at the right time.

Dad: Well, things don't always work out perfectly. Maybe those kids have learning problems.

Johnny: I think they don't have motivation. When did you learn about World War II?

Dad: Let's see... I think that was in high school -- tenth grade.

Johnny: Why did people just follow Hitler when they knew all the bad things he was doing?

Dad: I'm not sure I could say.

Johnny: Joey's grandpa says there were lots of reasons for it. He says some people were just too scared to do anything. And he said some people were evil, like Hitler. And he said lots of people just didn't use their brains. He says they got all caught up in Hitler's speeches and they thought he was great. And he said there really were a lot of people who were fighting Hitler the whole time. Some of them hid people and helped them escape from Hitler. Did they teach you that in tenth grade?

Dad: Well, some of it. There wasn't time to get into reasons for things. We mostly learned facts.

Johnny: Joey's grandpa says that if you don't think about the reasons for things, there's no use knowing the facts.

Dad: Well, he has a good point.

Johnny: I'm really interested in airplanes. When do we get to that in school?

Dad: Well, you'll probably cover a few principles of flight in science one year.

Johnny: But I want to know everything about them.

Dad: I think you'll have to do that on your own.

Johnny: What do you think is the right age to do it at?

Dad: (sigh) I suppose any age will do.

Johnny: Good! I'm going to start right now! Joey's grandpa gave me a neat book about World War II airplanes. He knows all about airplanes. He can even fix them.

Johnny starts to leave the room, then stops.

Johnny: I forget, Dad -- why is school compulsory?

Dad: I'll have to think on that, Johnny. How about sharing that airplane book with me?

by Tammy Drennan

Sandy Bandy: Good Morning, City! This is Sandy Bandy for W14U Radio in the greatest city in America. This morning's guest is Diane Schipper, a mom who does something really radical -- she teaches her kids at home. That's right. Her kids have never even seen the inside of a school building! Diane, good to have you on the show. What in the world made you decide to teach your own kids?

Diane Schipper: Thanks for inviting me, Sandy. To answer your question, when they got to be around five years old, I asked myself why I should send them to school, and I couldn't come up with a single decent answer. But I went a step further and made a list of pros and cons -- reasons to send them and reasons not to send them. There wasn't anything on the pros side of the list. The only possibility was "to have more time to myself," but since I like having my kids around, that wouldn't have been honest.

SB: What about so you can spend time doing something more grown-up, like pursuing a career?

DS: Are you saying that teaching and mentoring aren't grown-up or challenging things to do?

SB: Well, I guess I better not say that. I've got kids in school. Let's try something else. How do you know your kids are learning the right things? Do you follow the same plan the schools do?

DS: You mean the plan where you pick what you think they should know, then split it up so it will last twelve years, then split it up further so each year's worth will hold out for the year? No, I don't follow that plan. I follow the go-for-it plan.

SB: OK... but how do you know they're learning anything? Do you test them?

DS: Many home schoolers use tests. I don't, because my kids and I talk a lot, so I know what they're learning.

SB: Now let me get this straight, because I know you have a 16-year-old daughter and a 15-year-old son -- your kids talk to you -- willingly?

DS: Why wouldn't they?

SB: Because, like, it's not cool to talk to your parents like they're real people.

DS: Oh, yes, well, they never learned that, having never been to school.

SB: Amazing! But that does bring us to a really important question: What about socialization?

DS: Let me be sure I know what you mean by socialization. If you mean do my kids have any friends, the answer is yes -- they have friends in the neighborhood, at church, among relatives; as a matter of fact, they make friends almost everywhere we go. Or do you mean how will home schooled kids learn to get along with different kinds of people if they don't go to school -- you know, like how jocks learn to get along with nerds, and how cheerleaders learn to appreciate the company of girls in special ed. Maybe you mean how the different races learn to accept one another, like at the local high school in my town where there was just a race riot. Or you could mean how boys learn to respect girls, or how kids learn to treat one another with dignity. Then there's the lesson of learning to get along with and relate to people of all ages. Are those things you learned in school?

SB: Hmm. This interview seems to keep turning around backward. Let me pursue the socialization thing just a little further. So maybe school isn't such a great place for learning the positive aspects of socialization, but what about the other side? We all need to learn to be tough, to deal with bullies and smart alecks and people who don't like us.

DS: I'm sorry to keep answering you with questions, Sandy, but if one of your co-workers called you nasty names every day, or if they knocked your papers out of your hands and cornered you in the restroom and threatened you or stole your money, what would you do? This really is an important issue -- please tell me what you would really do.

SB: I'd probably sue the pants off them.

DS: Do you think a jury would be on your side?

SB: If they weren't, I'd say something was definitely wrong with people's thinking.

DS: Do you think people would understand if you said you had been so traumatized by your co-worker's treatment that you decided to seek therapy?

SB: I'm sure they would.

DS: Didn't you learn how to handle all that sort of thing in school without falling apart? Didn't school toughen you up for the real world, where co-workers harass you and pick on you, call you names, make your life miserable?

SB: Point well-taken. One more question. What about the discipline of getting up and making it to school on time? That prepares you for the work world, doesn't it?

DS: That's a particularly interesting question. I have a friend who is a personnel manager at a large firm. Do you know what one of his biggest problems with employees is? They won't come to work on time. Sometimes they won't come to work at all. And they get angry if they are penalized for their tardiness or absenteeism. And almost every one of them graduated from a public school. What seems to work much better is what has always worked. If you are consistently punctual and do a decent job, you get to keep on working. If not, you don't.  It works a lot better than twelve years of being-on-time training.

SB: That's it folks. You may decide to keep your kids in school, but you're gonna have to find better reasons for the decision. Talk at ya tomorrow.

by Tammy Drennan

Sister heard the knock on the door first, but Brother beat her to it. It was Mr. Pointy Nose, the truant officer who had visited many months earlier with dire warnings about homeschooling and had left a friend, with a bread recipe.

“It’s the man from the state!” Brother yelled. Mother rushed from the kitchen with Baby on her hip and sighed in relief when she saw their guest. “Please, come in,” she said.

Mr. Pointy Nose took a chair in the living room and Sister went for refreshments.

“What brings you all the way out here again?” Mother asked.

"Well,” said Mr. Pointy Nose, “two things, actually. First, I wanted to let you know that I’ve quit my job and I’m moving to Montana.”

Mother was surprised. Brother was ecstatic. “Oh, wow! Montana! That’s a big state! They have a lot of steer and horses and even buffalo. Can we come visit you?”

Mother signaled Brother to calm down. “What will you do in Montana?” she asked Mr. Pointy Nose.

"I have a brother who owns a ranch out there. I thought I’d try my hand at cattle herding.” He smiled sheepishly, as if he knew how unsuited for such work he seemed. “It’s always good to learn new things,” he added.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Mother said.

“Can we visit?” Brother asked again, ignoring Mother’s warning glare.

“I’d be happy to have you,” Mr. Pointy Nose said, “but you know it’s hundreds of miles from here.” Brother nodded and ran for an encyclopedia.

“On a more serious note,” Mr. Pointy Nose continued, “A new truant officer has been assigned, and I’m afraid she won’t be so easily won over. She’s on a low-carb diet.”

Mother burst into laughter. Mr. Pointy Nose was starting his new life with a new sense of humor.

“Really,” Mr. Pointy Nose said, “she’s a tough one. Takes her job and herself very seriously. I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

Mother thanked Mr. Pointy Nose for the heads-up and wrapped some homemade strudel for his journey. He left amidst wishes of good luck and even some hugs.

After the children were in bed, Mother and Father talked long into the night. Sister and Brother tip-toed out of their room and sat in the hallway for many moments watching the light under their parents’ door and worrying in whispers about the new truant officer. They weren’t doing anything wrong, of course. As a matter of fact, they were doing many things quite right. But they worried nonetheless.

The family didn’t have to wait long to meet the new truant officer. She showed up at their door two days after Mr. Pointy Nose. “Ms. No-Bread” the children decided to call her in private, even after Mother gave them a disapproving look. “Well,” Sister said, “it’s not mean. She doesn’t like to eat bread, does she?”

Ms. No-Bread was tall and even sterner than Mr. Pointy Nose had let on. After a brief and official introduction, she announced, “Your children belong in school.”

“My children are in school,” Mother said calmly. “We homeschool.”

“We live at school,” Brother added, even as Sister tugged at the back of his shirt. Brother was only seven and still not very good at knowing when he should keep quiet.

Ms. No-Bread’s eyebrows drew together until they touched. “That’s not school and it’s not legal.”

Mother turned and handed Baby to Sister. “I think there must be a misunderstanding,” she said when she turned back to Ms. No-Bread. “Homeschooling is perfectly legal and has been very good for my children.”

Ms. No-Bread harrumphed and stomped back to her car, warning, “We’ll see about that!”

The next day, the family was served with papers to appear in court. That night, Mother and Father stayed up late talking again. Sister and Brother sat in the hall again. Brother fumed, “I should have set a trap for that lady.”

“What would you do with her if you caught her?” Sister asked.

Brother thought this over for a long time. “I would get Daddy to drive her far away and leave her there. In Montana.”

Sister laughed. “That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do to Mr. Pointy Nose.”

The day of their hearing arrived and the whole family went together. Brother was under orders to be on his best behavior. Father and Mother had decided they would represent themselves and that Mother would speak for the family.

Ms. No-Bread presented her case before the judge, then shocked the family by asking that the children be removed to foster care while the case was under investigation. It was with great effort that Mother gathered her wits to speak.

"Your honor,” she said, when it was her turn. “I’m sure this lady has the best of intentions, and I’m glad she cares so much about children.” Mother held her breath for a second.

“Our family has been homeschooling for nine years,” Mother continued. “I have to be honest and tell you that we would do it with or without the blessing of the state, but it does happen that homeschooling is legal in our state and that we are not in violation of the law.”

The judge leaned forward. Mother hoped she hadn’t shocked him, or offended his sense of authority. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brother lean forward, too. He and Sister were sitting on the front row, because they had begged to be close to Mother — just in case. Father sat near the back with Baby, because Baby wasn’t always very quiet. Only a handful of others sat scattered about the courtroom — two other homeschool families who had come to support Mother and Father, and some people there for their own hearings.

"You’re telling me,” the judge said, more surprised than angry, “that you would knowingly break the law if it didn’t suit you?”

Mother cleared her throat. “Yes, your honor, I would. You see, a law that forcibly takes children from their parents to be educated by the state is both unconstitutional and unconscionable. For the good of my children and for the sake of liberty, I would be forced to choose what is right over what politicians had concluded should be the fate of my children.”

The judge was rapt now. He gathered his robes and descended from his bench. Ms. No-Bread gasped.

The judge motioned for Mother to sit in a nearby chair and he took one opposite her. “Please, continue,” he said. Ms. No-Bread tried to protest, but the judge motioned her to sit also. “Doesn’t this fascinate you?” he asked her.

Brother could contain himself no longer and ran to his mother and sat on her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and spoke.

“I know that many parents feel intimidated by the state system of education, but they do have the right to choose freedom. It’s wrong for the state to take children by force. It’s wrong for it to force its own curriculum and ideology on children, its own vision of the future, its own agenda for society. It’s the role of citizens to create their own future, based on their own individual visions. That’s how we came to be the United States of America and the freest nation on earth. The people, not the state, created America. Now the government has decided the people can no longer be trusted — not even to raise their own children.”

Ms. No-Bread rose to protest again, but the judge interrupted her. “What do you think of this, ma’am?”

Ms. No-Bread stuttered a few incoherent words and sat down.

"Go on,” the judge said to Mother. “You have my interest.”

"Your honor,” Mother went on, “the state is our servant, not our master. Since when does the servant order the master to turn over his children and threaten to lock him up if he won’t?”

The judge looked thoughtful. “But some parents, all too many, maybe, won’t see to their children’s education as they should. In the long run, that costs the state money — welfare, prisons, tax revenues.”

Mother looked doubtful. “Maybe,” she said. “On the other hand, it’s hard to imagine it getting much worse than it is now — with most children in state schools. Could it be that the state has taken on a job never intended to fall to it and is paying the consequences? The family is not some program instituted by politicians. It’s the natural way of life, a law of nature, so to speak. Laws of nature are usually violated at considerable risk to the offender.”

The judge leaned back in his chair. “Whoa. You’ve given this some thought. Go on.”

“Maybe,” Mother said, “much of the dysfunction we see in society today is because the state has taken over the role of parents. Maybe state schooling is actually a major cause of our problems, for the very reason that it defies the laws of nature.”

“But,” the judge began.

Mother held up her hand. “Please, if you don’t mind, I’d like to make one more point.”

The judge nodded and Ms. No-Bread looked as if she might cry, or maybe explode.

“A few people argue that because some parents will fail to see to their children’s education all children should be forced into state schools. This seems an odd line of reasoning to me. What else do we apply it to? Do we require children to be nourished by the state because some parents will feed them poorly? Poor nutrition costs the state — in healthcare, lost taxes from lost earnings, and welfare. Do we force all adults to exercise daily? Adult lethargy costs the state plenty. Do we monitor the daily activities of all citizens because some will commit crimes? Crime costs the state a tremendous amount of money. Why the preemptive action against potential imperfections in parent-controlled education but nowhere else?”

The judge rubbed his chin. “That’s a good question. Why, indeed?” He turned to Ms. No-Bread. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think,” she snapped. “I just do my job. Smarter people than me came up with this system.”

The judge turned to Mother and raised his eyebrows.

“The history of our system is another story,” she said, “and there’s not time to get into it now. But common sense serves just as well to determine what’s right. We may deem other people’s imperfections worse than our own, but that does not give us the right to take away their children and indoctrinate them according to our own perceived perfection —“

At this, Ms. No-Bread stood and blurted out, “What about people who abuse their children? How will we ever know if they aren’t in school?”

Mother nodded. “Child abuse is a horrible thing, but most abused children already attend state schools where the abuse goes unnoticed or even ignored. Some are even abused in schools without any repercussions. But again, are we prepared to monitor all families because a few do wrong? Is that what you would want if you had children?”

Ms. No-Bread didn’t respond. She sat down and glared out a window.

“People are not perfect,” Mother said. “There is plenty that needs to be done to help parents do their job better. But that is not the role of the state. The perfecting of imperfect human beings by their fellow imperfect human beings should be done by persuasion, not coercion.”

Brother had drifted off to sleep and Mother shifted him on her lap so his head rested more comfortably against her shoulder. A heavy silence hung in the atmosphere, one of thoughtfulness.

"I won’t take much more of your time,” Mother said. “But I would like to emphasize that I did not bring children into the world to fulfill someone else’s vision for the future. As you well know, there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of competing visions within education circles. And, as I’m also sure you know, the winning theories are those of people with the most will and money to influence politicians and others in authority. The law then attempts to take my children by force and make them submit to the winners’ ideology. The only thing that stands between this grasp for my children and their freedom is their father and me. If I won’t protect them, who will? So, yes, even if it meant breaking the law, I would protect my children from becoming pawns in this deadly game of who is most perfect and therefore justified in taking away the children to prepare them for the correct future.”

Brother stirred and looked around. “Are we done yet?” he asked. The judge stood and ruffled Brother’s hair. “Yes, son, we’re done. Go home and learn all you can so you can make as convincing a case for freedom as your mother has done.”

Brother leapt from Mother’s lap, ran over to Ms. No-Bread and threw his arms around her. “You can come visit us sometime,” he said. “We can give you roast beef instead of bread.”

Ms. No-Bread looked bewildered and embarrassed, but also a little less stern. A tear slipped down her cheek and she nodded as Brother ran back to his mother.

by Tammy Drennan

Once upon a time, there lived a happy family in a great wood: Mother and Father, Brother, Sister and Baby. Father went off to work each day, and Mother planted seeds and tended her garden and loved her children and taught them to read and write. At night, when Father came home, the family sang songs and laughed and played together.

One day while Father was away at work, a knock came at the door of the family's home. Mother opened the door and found a stern man with sharp teeth and a very pointy nose standing on the doorstep.

"May I help you?" Mother asked.

"I am here," snarled the man, "to inspect your home and your children."

Mother was surprised. "Whatever for?" she asked.

"It has been reported," snapped Mr. Pointy Nose, "that you do not institutionalize your children, as is the norm. It has been reported that you spend an abnormal amount of time with your children, and you have been seen laughing with them, and they with you. It has been reported that your teen child is not embarrassed to be seen with you and that she smiles while working in your garden and hanging laundry. I will have to inspect your house and ask you some questions."

Mother invited Mr. Pointy Nose in and offered him a cup of tea. Mr. Pointy Nose pulled a great pile of papers from his briefcase and began asking important questions: "How many television sets do you own, how often do you dine out, why do you have so many books, what do you have against institutions, why do you grow your own food, do your children know who Madonna is, how about Beavis and Butthead?"

Mother was very kind and reassuring: "We have one television set in the closet," she told Mr. Pointy Nose, "and we dine outside several times a week in nice weather. We have so many books because we love to read. We have no personal grudge against institutions -- we simply choose not to institutionalize. We grow food to eat, and of course my children know who the Madonna is. I'm not sure what a beavis is, and while butthead is a rather crude term, I have known a few."

Mr. Pointy Nose seemed insulted by this last statement and jumped up in a huff. "I must speak with your children," he announced.

Mother called Brother and Sister. Baby was too young to speak. Brother was six years old and Sister was 13. Mr. Pointy Nose asked Brother, "Have you ever heard of Beavis and Butthead?"

"Yes," said Brother. "We have beavers in the creek, and Butthead is my uncle's boss."

Sister giggled, but Mr. Pointy Nose was not amused. He addressed Brother again. "Do your parents ever yell at you?"

"You better believe it!" said Brother. "One time I climbed clear to the top of a 30 foot tree, and Dad yelled and yelled at me to stay up there till he could climb up, too. He doesn't get much time to climb trees, and I think he yelled so much 'cause he was excited at the chance."

Mr. Pointy Nose turned in disgust and asked Sister, "Wouldn't you like to be institutionalized with other children your age?"

"Well, most of my friends are institutionalized," Sister told him. "And I haven't been too impressed with it. They can hardly read anything -- they don't even like Charles Dickens. And they all hate history and math. I like playing jump rope with them in the evening, but they talk about the most boring things, like clothes and make-up and what's on TV, and... oh -- I know who Beavis and Butthead are. Do you know who Mr. Pickwick is?"

"No," said Mr. Pointy Nose curtly. "What sort of music do you listen to?"

"Oh, Beethoven is my favorite. Did you know he went deaf and just kept on writing music?"

"No," said Mr. Pointy Nose impatiently. "Why don't you listen to popular teenage music?"

Sister was surprised that a grown-up would ask such a question, but she answered as politely as possible, "Because it sounds simply wretched."

"Wretched! Wretched!?" screeched Mr. Pointy Nose. "That is not a seventh grade word! Where did you learn it?"

Mother had been in the kitchen preparing a snack of homemade bread and strawberry preserves. When she heard Mr. Pointy Nose screech, she rushed to the living room. "What's wretched?" she asked, a little alarmed.

"This child," Mr. Pointy Nose said indignantly, "correctly used the word wretched."

"Oh, I'm sure she wasn't referring to you," Mother said gently. "Here, have some fresh bread and jam."

Mr. Pointy Nose looked at the tray in Mother's hands suspiciously, then cautiously took her offering. As he ate he began to relax a little. "You made this yourself?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," said Mother.

"And I helped," chimed in Sister. Then she added, "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't know you had an aversion to that word, or I would never have said it."

"Aversion?" Mr. Pointy Nose sighed. He slumped in his chair and looked at Mother. "How do you ever expect your children to fit into the world if you don't institutionalize them, and you encourage them to develop advanced vocabularies and you teach them self-sufficiency. This does not coincide with the new way -- they must follow the new standards."

Mother looked at Mr. Pointy Nose thoughtfully. "I appreciate your apparent concern, kind sir," she said, " but you see, I am not raising children to follow standards -- I am raising them to set standards."

Mr. Pointy Nose looked around in a musing way and murmured, "Yes, yes. I can see that." He left with a bread recipe and an invitation to visit again some time.