Don’t fence me in

Do you know why I love this job? Because I’m stretched every day, yet I don’t seem to break or snap as often. I guess I’m made of tougher sinew now, comparing myself to the twenty-eight-year old who carried so much strain and stress and insecurity that first year of teaching, took everything personally, always felt inadequate. The other part is the creativity that I have to draw on, and how essential it is to connect with each student and do some pretty serious (long term) mentoring in life skills. Sort of why I was drawn to working in a middle school rather than a regular high school. This is a good combination of the two, in a way.

Though I was concerned about my energy level, working every day, I’m so mentally and emotionally charged up in class and have so much to think about outside of work that my body seems to be learning to draw on new channels of ATP. A brisk half hour swim before work, when I can fit it in, does wonders for slow release energy.

Right after the last student leaves, I sure need a bit of quiet, and my mind sort of lets go of any threads of organized plans I’d had for getting things done. If anyone breezed in and said “What did you do today,” (or “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”) I wouldn’t be able to say. But the drive home wakes me up again, and I just want to get back at the papers and plans and books I’m trying to get ahead in so I can extract readings for the next units. I’m tickled that, for now, this is my reality, feeling glad I am where I am. Fully expect it won’t always feel that way. Only cloud on the horizon is the fact that I can’t seem to connect in the way I want with the para educator who works in one of my classes. I think it’s just personality differences–something girlish, in a grown up form, she has, that I never did have. Most other girls mystified me, I never felt like one of them, though I adopted some of the accouterments up to my freshman year of college. Most of my buddies, the ones I could really talk to then, being male (including my dad), and the rest, women with no frills and a strong intellect, even an edge of some kind. The para is not girly in a fluffy way–runs every marathon she can, has a straightforward, no-nonsense manner, is very organized and confident, but I feel that same sense of not being of quite the same variety. And the sense of fun and lightheartedness I saw in her during my interview hasn’t shown up since. Oh well. She sure is a big help in my class with eight or more kids who have IEPs.

It was an extra short day today, each period only a half hour long, and about a third of the students didn’t show. After the quiz I’d promised, I shared my idea of doing the big class project, the one with some kind of physical interpretation of biology/environmental science principles, on the chain link fence outside the classroom. We did some low key brainstorming about what techniques could work–weaving, attaching painted work, pages in plastic protectors, stained glass, ribbons. One boy suggested we dig a pond, another plant flowers. Then time was up and there were wishes of Happy Thanksgiving as they went out into the sun and wind.

I shared the concept with the principle, asked about the fence possibility, which he said could work as long as it looked nice, that being the side where people walk and bike by to other destinations. Another reason for choosing it in my mind, besides being able to admire the work from inside the classroom. Fence at the back also a possibility, facing a warehouse, or the one around the picnic tables.

I perceived that I had partially been trying to impress, with my eagerness to apply what I’d been learning about Project Based Learning (PBL). I was glad to have the response, though. On the way out i ran the idea by the art teacher–a kindred spirit, though she is only around on a very part time basis. She said she looked forward to hearing more. I think I need to get at this while the “Most Likely to Succeed” film is fresh in my mind, but I sense that there are a lot of ways this idea could fizzle, or just get choked out by the traditional resources I’m drawing on as I sink or swim in this first year with the courses. Still, I now know that there are as many ideas as would fill the entire fence around the whole school. As for looking nice, my daughter commented that it looks like a prison camp now, so anything would be an improvement. And since the whole place will be torn down next summer to make way for the new campus, permanence need not be a goal.

Hung with the family for a few hours, discussed with my husband again whether we are serious about the house with 4.5 acres, a pretty heavy conversation for some reason that sort of thing always turns out to be—I’d want the garden here; no, he wants that to be a lawn. We’d need a rec/overflow room, but where? Would we actually get around to building it anyway? What about finishing this one off–what did that seem to drag on so long? A reminder not to get stuck in the “this is my dream” mentality and stay flexible about how our place would be set up, to be thankful to have the option and opportunity. Saw the girls off to their walk down to the historic district, did some chores with my son, then I headed off to buy sweet potatoes and afterwards to do some writing at the coffee shop by the sea–violet water, sky greenish and melting into blue space and the beginnings of stars. Waves lapping, and a bright, friendly space inside where I could be alone.

The WiFi being too loaded to use, I opened my project ideas notebook and started sketching fence panels. The ideas just kept pouring out—energy flow, patterns and order, change, adaptation, cycling of materials, diversity, feedback, interrelationships, communities, biomes, epigenetics. Panels with images, scan codes leading to a student blog, interviews, the story of the project. A panel with a giant feed/energy flow web, another mounted and hung with things that showed wind patterns or captured weather data. A solar panel. All slowly decaying, being bleached by the power of the sun, and in some places, growing up, out, and around. Places for the contributions of passersby. How could they not get excited about the possibilities? I know the idea of doing something different appeals to many, and though it’s meant to be a group project, no one will be obliged to work in a groupish way, just to make their own contribution, whatever that would be. This was an assurance I gave to my “I only work alone” student, who wants to do the writing part.

Also in my notebook I made a list of roles that different students could play–director, scheduler/manager, writer/editor, photographer, craftspeople, community/school liaison. Wondering what roles will be picked up by whom.

I’m getting really curious whether this process is similar to that of others who do these things, and I’m wanting more training. Including training in how to drive this to happen within our constraints and with our potential resources, but keep out of exactly how. Also, how much time will this take, and will it have to expand into after school?


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Posted by on November 26, 2015 in Education, Places & Experiences


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Seeing dimly

Only took a day to realize I haven’t yet entered the promised land of project based learning or authentic learning or whatever you want to call it. Maybe this molecule is too non polar, too big to get across that membrane, and I’ll need the help of a transporting protein, and a good dose of ATP to motor me through. The day after my paradigm-shifted lesson, I went back to reading from the numbered list, feeling nervous about being perceived as incompetent by the para, sensing the difficulty of going both slowly and carefully enough for some and rapidly and in depth enough for others, mentally flailing about for something real to offer. What, do I have to watch that film again to get in the mood? I didn’t even have the guts to do another version of the same thing–this time with salt and water molecules, so I just showed them the dyed gelatin cubes, gave them the numbers, and walked through the math.

Still, I remember the faces from the day before, certain faces–one girl, always sour and reluctant and critical, usually talking through the lesson, but this time so much not knowing what to make of things and with others involved that she kept her nose in a book through the whole diffusion role play. Another, the boy in the hoodie quietly explaining what had to be done from his corner of the room. The girl who asked not to be called on, who has an ADHD diagnosis, up and trying things and telling fellow students who needed to move where. And the fact that just about everyone got past that “What?” stage and got to figuring things out on their own, moving others with their ideas, making mistakes and then getting it right.

So I’ll have to be patient with myself. I said something like that to each class as I explained how I wanted to learn to do things differently. It’s cool that when I bare my soul to these kids, they really listen, and though one might think they haven’t proven to be founts of wisdom so far in life, they have a lot to offer. In kindness, too. Like several, at various times, coming up to me after class to apologize for someone else’s attitude. Or the girl freshly back from a drug violation who, at some reaction I had to some crazy stuff, guffawed and said, “I just want to say that I like you.” Which I shall store in my inner cupboards, the dry ones where swelling is less of a problem.

The girl who has posed the most challenge from day to day will be in conference with staff and parent tomorrow–our feedback, as her teachers, having been solicited. As the principal said, if it’s her or three other students who are on the verge of dropping out of classes because of her, it will have to be her. I told him that I like her and hope she’ll be able to stay, but I admit that I’m a little out of tune with the strain she’s apparently placing on several of my students, one of whom asks to leave sometimes because of things the other is talking about on the other side of the room. Certainly she will have to be moved next to someone less susceptible to being fascinated, and I have an idea whom.

My solution to the problem of needing to provide meaningful content each day is also part of the problem–I plan out the details too much. When I center down and go by my gut, from a place of confidence and moral courage (strengthened by the vision of colleagues and others), I am a better teacher, less in the way of the students’ authentic learning work. I’m trying to concentrate on internalizing big principles–of biology, of environmental science, and thinking of starters that will hook the students into learning not only the most important stuff of science, but how to work together, communicate, create. It’s a distant vision, but it’s driving me.



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Glad to be an organelle inside this semi-permeable membrane

Went in early as usual to tidy up plans, by messy corner, and maybe my mind. I enjoy the quiet atmosphere of the class on before my prep starts–the Spanish teacher is soft spoken and they kids listen and work away. Still felt scrambled, couldn’t quite muster my fighting stance for teaching as usual, after yesterday. In the shower I’d been relaxed enough for ideas  to flow, ones I could get excited about, conversations I’d like to have with students, individually and as a class. I got the traditional lesson organized, a continuation of a lab that didn’t really work out due to a missing chemical, but using theoretical results in order to illustrate the concept of surface are to volume ratio in the life of the cell. Keeping those other thoughts in store in case I felt centered enough to share–some writing from the night before, my motes from the “Most Likely to Succeed” film.

I willed myself to relax, reminded myself that this first class had gone really well yesterday and I had nothing to lose by doing some of Plan B. So I brought up the film, told them about how the system they’d been locked into for the past decade had been designed a hundred years ago to fill early industrial jobs and was now proving to be a killer of creativity, initiative, and leadership in most, tended to neglect opportunities to teach what young people really needed no matter what they ended up doing–the ability to collaborate, create, manage time, learn new skills, reflect. How there was no connection between passing tests and having a long term store of useful knowledge. How since knowledge of all kinds was easily accessible, why not have education focus on providing opportunities to do authentic work for a real purpose. How I had an idea that we could create something big around big ideas in biology–maybe the cell. They were intrigued. I asked them to make a note on the index cards I’d been using of personal info, on what their strengths and skills were. Told them if they didn’t know, that was okay–I saw them in every one, and it would be revealed in time.The two girls who were the sassiest said they didn’t have any strengths–I contradicted them, said I saw a quality very important to have–strong will, willing to speak out and stand up to people who seemed to be out of line. Asked one what she though was the corresponding weakness, since all strengths had those. Yeah, she got it.

There was such a sense of attention and engagement–I stayed sitting down, stopped talking every time someone started to, told them I’d assume they felt they wanted to contribute and we could take turns. The ones who usually talked out of turn either shushed themselves or were shushed by others. I said I was planning on letting them work those things out themselves, I could wait–wasn’t me style to be an enforcer. That if anyone felt another student was out of line, would they please respectfully let them know.

Then I passed around paper and had each student write their name and pass to another so they could jot down on each others’ papers the  strengths they saw–rules being no double meanings or subtle put-downs. They did one for me, too.

In the second class I went to the next level, thanks to an empowering chat with my supersecretary, set up a new seating arrangement: a big U with everyone facing in. They all said, “What?! as they came in (except the quiet guy in the hoodie), and found a seat. After sharing about the film, I went over diffusion and osmosis basics and told them I wanted them to demonstrate, with their bodies, what would happen to a cell (inside the circle of tables) in pure water. Then sat and waited. they looked around, a bit dazed, just like the freshmen in the film who were asked on the first day to set up the tables in a certain way. Then, slowly, there was movement, some took initiative. Others waited, all were totally paying attention. Pause, false starts, getting over the expectation that I’d be intervening (which I didn’t, though i sent out a few signals to encourage quiet students who understood to take the lead).

It was so, so cool. I learned more about individual students that session than the rest of the month. And I’m pretty sure they got the concept. I let them mimic bursting the cell membrane by partially tipping over the tables to make sure.

I wasn’t easy to sit and wait. But it felt so right. I could tell it wasn’t easy for the para educator either, but she’d seen the film, too, and knew what I was up to. Though she hinted I should help them. I said I knew several students knew what to do, if they’d just swing the others. In one class it was the quietest boy of all that brought the concept home. In another it was the girl who has an ADD diagnosis and forbids me to call on her.

This is the way our school is going, and it feels so natural and right. I get to study up on ways to deliver or find resources on what they’ll need to know for the big project (as well as the end of course exam in biology), define the basic parameters, and let them at it. I confessed to them that it was kind of scary, and when I felt tense or stressed I’d tend to fall back into my old, familiar, teacher-directed patterns, but that I was really looking forward to seeing what they could do.


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Posted by on November 19, 2015 in Education


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In the light of a burning flame

Really clinging to the animating view. And remembering that I knew this would be tough. After really reworking my biology lesson into bite size pieces with opportunities for student engagement and assessment of understanding, though it was still essentially teacher-led, it worked well in the first class, the one I teach on my own, with only a few officially special ed students. They got the concept of osmosis, were able to predict and come up with reasonable hypotheses, and I was feeling pretty good. I sent out the student who’s so sassy she irritates half the class, told her she was welcome back when she was ready to be respectful. She soon came back and we continued on to closing time. They had their nice, organized notes, their star stickers, which they like (taste has been warped, and who am I at this stage to try to help find their internal motivations), no complaints. Then came the second group. Same lesson, but I slogged through even slower, and was able to confirm reasonable comprehension in only three out of sixteen students. Four or five either quietly talking through most of the lesson or listening to other students talk, using cell phones or listening to music (our policy means nothing: no one touches those student phones). I brought my questions down to the level of simple logic, as in if a=b and b=c, then what’s the relationship between a and c? All I got was that classic deer in the headlights stare. Okay, so I need to find new ways to individualize instruction and adjust expectations. So should I play God and say, students 1,2, and 3 are only capable to coloring pictures of cells and copying down words, doing the labs but not understanding the theory behind, writing the quizzes but always open book, and for them that’s an A, while students 3,4, and 5 get homework, the lab write up and the full test?

Had a conversation with the principal and counselor about that yesterday, and got the best answers they had to give, just to do my best to teach to the test, and only modify expectations if the IEP’s specifically stated to. And they were all given A’s for first semester by the teacher, whom they really liked, who departed for personal reasons. What an act to follow. I’d need a year and a half to teach all this material adequately to many of these students.

I just had to share my feelings, wished the para educator was one from whom I felt I could seek support, but she seemed as mystified about osmosis as the rest, and as convinced that my methods were the problem. Break it down into steps, she’d told me, give SDI–specific direct instruction (I asked). I was literally doing all of that to the best of my ability.

It was helpful to tell all to the school secretary and master many other trades, who has been at the school for decades and listened sympathetically, had no annoying advice, just, yes, it’s hard ,and said she couldn’t do it (though she is certified also and works in the classroom as a para). She added that since that class was after lunch, several of the students might be stoned. It was also helpful that the previous day I’d had a chat with the art teacher, who was reeling from a tough class too. It just would be nice to have a little respect and gratitude. To be able to remind certain students that even though they had a screwed up family life and not many prospects (in their own minds at least), they could show a little gratitude that somebody chose to work with them and all the other kids who couldn’t hack the regular school, or whom the regular school couldn’t hack.

No, we don’t go there. Once again I will try to be extra thankful myself that I get to be challenged to grow, to be tested for patience, sincerity, love, strength of character and principle, and to work with leaders in this field who want to create a place where all these students have a chance to really thrive.

Like at High Tech High in San Diego. Saw the film, “Most Likely to Succeed” about that today after school, and though the focus was still on providing worker’s for tomorrow’s jobs (which haven’t yet been invented) just like in the Bavarian model of industrialized public education, i was inspired by the way they are doing it. teachers on one year contracts with complete freedom to teach how they want. Focus on authentic work, student choice, major, creative projects and learning whatever soft and technical skills enable them to collaboratively create something that wasn’t there before. Combined disciplines, such as physics and history, civics and drama. gave me shivers to see the segment of the teacher who greeted his new freshmen, picked by lottery and as diverse as any, with the task of setting up the tables according to a pattern on the board, then leaving them, alone to figure it out–this group of teenagers who were complete strangers to one another, while he went into his attached glass office. The looks on their faces reminded me of those turning to one another when my education prof said to us on our first day, “So what do you need to know?” and waited.

My environmental science class is completely open as far as how I can teach it, and I started dreaming: How about saying, class, your task is to write a book together, or create a feature length film, or both, or design, sew, and present a quilt illustrating your choice of a major theme of environmental science. Scary thought, right? I’d get that stare, maybe for the first week straight. maybe they’d get angry–with me, with each other. Do I have the wisdom, the gumption, to stick with a student led approach and let them work it out? Even if it had mediocre results, that could be seen as an improvement, still. And I doubt if we’d get many parents storming in demanding I get their kid ready for the SAT the usual way and quit messing around with projects. but would they come to the presentation night, celebrate what their kids had done, and could we find community members in the field to join us?

Sometimes I’ve thought of myself as one of the real potential greats–noticed for my unique approach, leadership in the field, a Teacher of the Year candidate, if only I could get the right job, have the right support, work with student sufficiently motivated . Then I feel that, no, I’ll never be a John Taylor Gatto or that teacher of the Freedom Writers, and I get discouraged and intimidated to try anything big and confirm my mediocrity. Now I’m moving to a place, I think, of more of a growth mindset, where I think, why not try? If only I could catch my breath and get a few quiet hours a day outside of athletic banquets and conversations with kids and home duties and tutoring and sleep. I hope to God I’m not just going to dream and write about it.

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Posted by on November 18, 2015 in Education


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“…let the animating view rekindle your resolution…” – W. Wilberforce

Going into my third week as the alternative school science teacher, and the novelty has worn off, I guess, for all of us. As much as I wanted to hang on to the fresh, all options on the table, all ideals realizable, free from judgment point of view, reality has hit. Not that I am giving up, just having to work through a little lowness of spirits. It will take more strength of will and adherence to principle to maintain my idealism, and I do intend to try. Ideals such as conveying the message to every student, every day, I am on your side. And, along with that, that as long as you stick with me in this class, you have to let me lead it. Certain students are watching and quietly rooting for that leadership, as two or three continue to demand I do things differently and complain when things are difficult or unfamiliar.

It’s now time to call out those students who are stressing out the others, and also to begin a more formal attempt to train them in how to time and phrase criticism and appeals, and how to filter out those arising from mere impatience, ego, and fear. I picture a conversation which includes reminding these students that I have been hired to teach everyone and they do not have the right to constantly interrupt, nor should they assume that their concerns or problems are shared by everyone. I want to affirm that they have the right to their feelings, but not the right to express them in any way that they choose or at any time they choose. That said, I want to help them develop some tools so that they can learn how to manage that steam that builds up, to channel it in positive ways. They also need to come to realize that I am not ultimately responsible for their learning, they are.

The official agenda: teach them all the major concepts of biology so they can pass the course and the end of course exam (on either the first or second attempt), and graduate. I have to adapt instruction, simplify assignments in some cases, use a pass/fail system when needed, or accept 80% as 100% (it’s all in the paperwork), check in frequently for understanding, and so that means skipping over the enrichment activities, skimming over the surface of key concepts without spending time enough for them to sink in through application and repetition, focusing on teaching to the tests and even dumbing down the tests, relying on easily gradable paper assignments. All of which will likely result in just as dismal results as teaching the standard course and giving nightly homework to keep things rolling.

The other choice is to skip some concepts entirely and teach deeply, in the hope that students come understand how scientific inquiry really works, how intricate and amazing and multifaceted biological systems are, how their minds can really engage with ideas, and how learning works best for them. Giving time for conversations that can address the strategy deficiencies and attitude problems and misconceptions about themselves and the world that have got them to this school in the first place. Attempting to have them, as the school mission puts it, develop their passions, giving them every chance possible to see scientific work as a candidate for personal study or career.

So I need to speak to the principal and counselor about this. What am I really accountable for, which of the many special goals for these students take priority, and what room for interpretation do I have?

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Posted by on November 16, 2015 in Uncategorized


I don’t really need a vacation, but I’ll take the moments I can.

I often forget there are so many places to go, to be away from home, things to do, sights to see. Because while the kids are still in need of drives and advice and support with food and other needs, and there’s a house to clean and the aftermath of twenty years of living in a house made of wood with short-lived appliances, peeling paint, decomposing fences, sewer lines invaded by roots, and pets that need to be fed and let in and out, one doesn’t often think of pulling out the maps during lunch break, or get invited for a tour of Europe by friends in the same phase in life. My online searches have not had the proper key words to evoke popups about vacation package deals or sales on RVs.

It’s necessity that pulls me away from home, and I’m grateful for that. It’s a treat just to walk into a clean hotel room and have a bed of one’s own, a clean bathroom with towels nicely folded. This time (again), it’s looking at a university with my high school senior. A three hour round trip through the Gulf Islands is like a magazine perusal–there are the vacation homes, some that might be rentals I could book for a friends’ retreat or a getaway with my husband (are we finally at that time?), and I think of how nice it would be to have a Subaru wagon with racks for a canoe or kayak, and a bike on the back. What I could do with those three vehicles–drive, park, camp, pedal and paddle. Headlamp and folding chair for a good read before bedtime, an early morning walk with the appropriate field guide. But I’m thinking like an independent person again. Thinking like my neighbors seem to do–seems like that–free to plan things both together as a family and as free agents. My husband and I are not that modern, or organized, or on the same page. And what’s one to do, when someone still has to be on home duty?

Maybe that’s why necessity is helpful. I still get out and see the world, leave the dishes and laundry behind, stare out at the sea hoping to see whales, pretend that my next trip will be a real vacation.

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Posted by on November 15, 2015 in Places & Experiences


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The value added home

How much is a home maker worth to a household, to a community, and to society? Do they earn their keep?

Within a household a home maker provides services that include:

  • house cleaning
  • child care
  • laundry
  • lawn maintenance
  • driving and errands
  • accounting/bookkeeping and related administrative tasks
  • food shopping, meal planning, preparation, service, and cleanup
  • yard maintenance and/or food gardening

Investopedia values these services at $96,261 if they were done in the context of a professional career. All free for the household served by the home maker, who should therefore be highly valued by the other household members and treated accordingly.

Not included but at least as valuable from the perspective of the family unit are:

  • education, training, nurture and emotional support of children before, beside, beyond, because of and/or instead of formal schooling
  • savings in business apparel not needed
  • home security – house is occupied more and at less predictable intervals
  • home organization
  • special skills such as sewing, hair cutting, home repair and improvement, furniture repair and refinishing, interior decorating, financial asset management, landscape design and maintenance
  • food gardening, raising livestock and other forms of production

Home makers also often provide benefits to the community, such as:

  • Keeping an eye on the neighborhood and neighbors
  • Carpooling other children (e.g., of dual income families)
  • Child and pet care for other families
  • Serving and preparing food for neighbors, as well as school, church, team, and other community events
  • Savings in health costs due to healthy food prep
  • Being there for neighbors & friends – someone to talk to, keep an eye on neighborhood during “work” hours, lend and share, help with projects, advice, crisis

Beneficial effects of the role of the home maker on larger society are harder to enumerate, but could include stabilization of communities through the nurture of children, informal social services, lessening demands on government.

However, governments and others tend to view homemaking as a choice of the privileged, nowadays, and not something that should be directly supported by government. In fact, when the services listed above are provided by home makers by choice, the government has very little influence over how these jobs are done and has no mandate in taxation of their services.

  • Lost revenue from employee- and employer-paid taxes
  • Lost business and tax revenue from commercial providers of the services listed above, and from their employees’ paychecks
  • Lost business and tax revenue from the purchase of clothing, products, and services (e.g. hair styling) that create a “professional” image
  • Lost business and tax revenue from sales of ready-made convenience food products from restaurants, delis, and grocery stores
  • Lost business and tax revenue from sales of auto fuel, service, repair and supplies needed for work commute
  • Lost revenue from salaries of government workers in social services, regulation and oversight of industries mentioned above
  • and much more

Billions of dollars in lost revenue, that is. Some of this revenue would go to government social services programs, but the increased need for workers in those services (and the business they generate just by being employed away from home) would provide additional tax revenue.

Home makers can thus be seen as a drain on the economy, part of the unemployed and underemployed. They also generally operate outside of the influence of regulation, so can legally bring up their charges in a variety of ways, to adopt a variety of perspectives, and have a tendency to see the family unit as the main building block of society, and community after that, rather than any -ocracy, protocol, or state mandate. They form cells of like minded people, which interferes at times with the melting of the pot and large scale cultural diffusion (though not with true multiculturalism). They are even allowed to mix religion with the education of their children. Also, ideally, they teach their children skills that keep them equally independent of the various branches of the care giving economy listed above, perpetuating the problem.

Hence the state has very little incentive to support the role of the homemaker. Other important social roles can also be seen this way–the non-professional healer, the friend in need/shoulder to lean on, the folk musician, the elder, the volunteer teacher or mentor, the spiritual or relationship guide.

In other words, homemakers, don’t be surprised at the pull into the work place, the temptation to dislike and devalue your work, the pressure to hand it off and get a paying job at something more “satisfying,” the isolation you feel as others move on out of those community connections. Don’t be surprised when in asking the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” no one will openly aspire to be a home maker. The fact that the role still exists at all, even in industrialized society, is a testament to its inherent value, and maybe that will have to be enough for now.


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Posted by on November 14, 2015 in Culture & Society, Economics


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