New Jersey 33, or More Fairy Tale

MJB asks:

What's the layout of your house? What are the colors, the decor, the feel?
When random people walk in, how do they feel?
What do the kids actually learn about? How do they spend their days?

The house was once a farmhouse, and contains a lot of rooms that were added over the generations, giving the place a sort of patchwork feel. The front door leads into the living/cooking/eating space - the cooking part of the kitchen is painted in cobalt and dandelion, and the walls around the couches and wood stove are barn red. It's not quite as jarring as it sounds, but Cindy and I were definitely going for the cheerful look. Some of Jo's drawings are framed on the walls, and a collage of newspaper clippings Cindy made for Arlene, which highlight her academic accomplishments. The furniture in the living room is cozy and broken-in. The couch was originally mine, a sweet corduroy giant the color of garden soil, which can fit up to six kids or four snuggly adults. Nobody sits in the recliner by the stove without Arlene's permission, except the cat, who we call Cat. Jo's old futon is there too, doubling as an extra couch, and Cindy made the coffee table, which is really an old refurbished trunk that holds blankets and extra pillows.

The front door is hardly ever used, and the side door hardly ever locked. The side door comes straight in by the refrigerator, which is how I like it - people going straight for the kitchen, the heart of the house. We set it up so folks would have room to stand around and socialize without getting in my (or any cook's) way. The counters are all butcher block, the refrigerator is covered in kid-artwork, and one wall is a chalkboard, which we use to scribble notes and lists. Right now, it reads: "light bulbs, cinnamon, hot paprika, CELERY SEEDS!, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, nails, toilet paper, peanut butter", "C - can you fix the wobbly leg on our night table, will love you forever - D","REMEMBER FRIDAY'S MEETING!"

I hope people feel welcome when they come in. That's the idea, anyway. There's a shelf in the fridge labeled "guest" that folks are welcome to raid. It usually has iced tea, at the very least. Sometimes there's cookies or what-have-you. Sometimes, not too often, I come home to find someone sprawled out on the couch, fire roaring, coffee in hand. I like it when that happens.

The kids are homeschooled, or "unschooled" - the parents among us have rejected the idea of school as an institution, and are allowing the kids to collectively guide their own education. What this looks like is every month or two, we have a meeting to decide what projects the kids are going to pursue for the next several weeks. Each kid decides what they want to study, and for how long. Sometimes they double and triple up, wanting to learn together. Or they decide on a theme - like this month's "working with hands" - and figure out a series of projects to do around that theme. The "term" usually ends with some kind of presentation, or finished product. I'm hoping by the time this unit is over, we'll have new veggies to eat, and new dishes to eat them off of.

The kids have to spend at least a few hours each day dedicated to their projects, and at least one or two hours a day doing chores. Chores can be stacking firewood, helping me clean the pottery shed, spending time in the garden, cleaning their own homes, helping Esme put together mailings, or whatever else is going on. There are systems to hold them accountable, but on the whole, they're really good about pitching in. Sometimes, I wish I'd grown up here. And then I think - nah, if I'd grown up here, my rebellion would've been awful. I would've become a Mormon investment banker in a high-rise or something. I keep waiting for the day that the kids start to rebel. But they're all under 12 still, so maybe we have a year or two yet.