Postcards From Lebanucky, and an opinionated rant that mentions Mr. Greenjeans

Tonight, as I was watching Rocky’s sweet, sleeping face in the dim light, the wild little ringlets falling across her cheek, the soft, curly lashes, the rise and fall of her chest, the little fingers curled gently around my hand – I thought, you were once just a frozen sperm we defrosted.


Life in Lebanucky is good.  Ru and I are doing very well, when we’re not having warring mood swings.  Drugs help.  I mean, life is different for people like me, when we finally surrender and try the damned Zoloft.  Who would’ve ever thought it was a chemical imbalance?  Don’t answer that.

We all survived The Big Ice Storm of ‘o9, which, despite the sarcasm indicated by my clever use of bold italics and capitals, actually was a pretty big storm.  It’s one thing when a single icicle forms in Austin and every news anchor from every station is there, eyebrows knit, wearing LLBean parkas and toboggans and telling you “Old Man Winter strikes a blow tonight in central Texas! More at eleven.”  It’s another thing altogether when you’re walking down the middle of the street to avoid being bludgeoned to death by one of the multitude of falling ice-encased 200 pound tree limbs.

Ru finally got her Kentucky massage license, and mine is a sure thing, though the effing Finance Cabinet is taking its goddamn time giving me a number.  Meanwhile, I’m forced to apply for cashier jobs at Kmart.  Which I was turned down for.  Wow, things really have gotten bad.  Some dude with a doctorate in quantum physics is out there wearing my blue mesh Kmart vest.

I’m still looking into (planning) looking into (planning) maybe (definitely) going back to school on a Masters in Nursing track.  Today, though, on a nature hike, I was dismayed to discover that I really want to be a Nature Hike Guide.  I was in a foul mood the entire drive home and for hours afterward.  I curse the day I decided to support my family.

Ru and I are in the midst of considering school options for Ry for September.  The l’il peeper will be starting Kindergarten.  I’m pretty well sold on the Waldorf method, and so is Ru; too bad it costs $7,000 a year.  Beyond that, Ru likes the public school down the street, and I like homeschool.  There are pros and cons to each.  My firm belief is that we shove numbers and letters in our kids’ faces way too young.  I don’t know how Kindergarten is elsewhere, but around here, a really “good” school is one where 5- and 6-year-olds get drilled on math and reading for 7 hours a day.  One twenty minute recess, 30 minutes for lunch, 28 of which are wasted while the teacher waits for every last one of you to be standing still, no talking, with your hands at your sides, excuse me, Timmy?  Eyes front!  OK, that was only a few of the schools we looked at, and the one Ry’d be going to is really good, for a public school.  The kids seemed relatively happy.  But what the hell?  What happened to half day Kindergarten?  What happened to TWO recesses, and a leisurely 45-minute lunch, for the older kids?  What happened to kids getting to play for a few years before college prep starts? For God’s sake, what happened to Mr. Greenjeans?? And when the hell did Americans decide that making the child read Pilgrims Progress in utero would somehow smarten it up so it could kick foreign kids’ spelling bee asses?  Has anybody been to Finland?  Hello, America, their kids don’t start school until they’re seven, and they’re way more better ejucated then our kidz.

That’s all I got.


3 responses to “Postcards From Lebanucky, and an opinionated rant that mentions Mr. Greenjeans

  1. Amen, sister! I totally agree with you.

    I haven’t read this book yet, but I like the title: Einstein Never Used Flash Cards.

    The mainstream schools mostly seem to teach conformity and obedience. And they seem to manage to take children’s natural love for learning and destroy it.

    OK, don’t hit me too hard with the tomatoes, people.

  2. I don’t know if they have it in Louisville, but have you looked in to finding a Reggio Emilio school? That’s the form of school my mother teaches, and they seem to get wonderful results with their kids. I have another friend in the Bay Area who works at a non-profit Reggio Emilio school. Might be worth checking out! Good luck (I’m thankful these sorts of decisions don’t have to be made around my house – I only have to worry about what kind of cat food to pick up. 😉

  3. Thanks for the lead – the closest RE-inspired school is too far away. Bummer – it looks like a good program!

    What – you don’t teach your cat math and reading?

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