Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

Otto and I hatch a plan

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Tonight, on iChat:

Otto: where’s your post debate analysis? it’s been like an hour

Diane: Heh. Like I could watch it. Darin came home and taped it. I couldn’t be in the same room for a few seconds. I thought Kerry sounded much better, but why he didn’t hammer Bush on obvious stuff I have no idea.

Otto: i would listen to kerry, then i’d play w the baby loudly while bush was talking. cspan did a permanent split screen, so it was all reaction all the time. loved it. bush looked tired and lost, and kerry looked confident and also, a tiny bit, that if he was allowed by the debate rules to politely removed bush’s head with a machete, he would

Diane: and, as we all know, kerry actually knows how to do that.

Otto: yup. woulda made for GREAT tv

Diane: we should do a live blogging next debate on my blog. Not so much instant analysis as “instant snarkiness.” there’s enough analysis. there’s insufficient snarkiness. i mean, there’s only so much Jon Stewart to go around. And Mrs. Stewart and Baby Stewart really have first dibs. Well, them and Comedy Central.

Otto: never once seen his show, actually

Diane: !!! whoa.

Otto: also never tried coffee. i have a great list of these, but too many and i’d blow your mind

Diane: Well, on behalf of my people, Welcome to this planet.

So, what’d you think: instead of live debate blogging, live debate snarkiness blogging? And when is the next debate, anyhow?

Update: Aha! Found it:

  • Oct. 5: Vice-Presidential debate (Not limited by topic)
  • Oct. 8 (Not limited by topic)
  • Oct. 13 (Economic and domestic policy)

Update 2:

Diane: I don’t even know how to find out when the next debates are.

Otto: i think it’s in the paper, on cnn, on cnn.com, and probably about 1,900 other news stories. they also said on the air, for those who watched, when the next episode is

Diane: well, there’s the whole “Diane DIDN’T WATCH IT” thing, but you just keep on. I have a copy of the Debate Agreement memo, and there it is.

Otto: you have the debate agreement memo, but didn’t watch the debate? what sort of freak are you?

Interesting things on tax refund checks

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We finally got around to filing our taxes (YES, WE FILED EXTENSIONS, DON’T BE A GIT) and got refunds. Of course, we got far less money back than Darin was expecting (so much for our percentage of the great tax reduction pie), but it was still a nice chunk of change to show up on our doorstep. And I noticed two curious things on the checks:

  • On the California state check, the “fund name” is the “Tax Relief and Refund Account.” Isn’t “tax relief” a Republican talking point? Why did California name its fund that?
  • The US Treasury check was issued in Austin, Texas. Just in case I was wondering where the money had gone.

That schooling thing again

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At a birthday party a week or so ago (my interactions with other adults pretty much center around birthday parties), a friend of mine who’s the mom of one of Sophia’s best friends confided in me that she’s not happy with our preschool. Why? Because it’s not academic enough. Her daughter doesn’t know her letters yet, for example.

I confided in her that I’m not happy with the preschool because I think it’s too academic. I think the school spends an inordinate amount of time on letters. Sophia already knew her alphabet and numbers before going to preschool, you see. Her preschool in LA was (dare I say it) more perfect than I knew at the time. She’d come home covered in paint and dirt, having spent all day doing art projects and feeding the pet rabbit and listening to stories in circle time. At her current preschool her clothes are in perfect order every day.

Sophia’s big thing these days is writing. She can write her name and Simon’s name; she has to ask me to spell other names. For example, now when we write out a birthday card, Sophia insists on writing the name of her friend on the card and signing it herself. She isn’t reading (so far as I know), but she can write pretty well for a 4-year-old. (In my opinion, of course. What do I know of the handwriting skills of 4 year olds?)

At a birthday party this past weekend, I met a mom who turns out to live very close to me, whose son is going to the public school my kids would attend. As is my wont, I talked to her some about what the school’s like, and as usually happens I probably took something different away from her words than she intended. She liked the kindergarten teacher, but is not so thrilled with her son’s 1st grade teacher this year. (The school year is what, a month old? And already she’s not thrilled?) The constant fundraising appeals (on top of the gigantic property taxes we’re all paying in this area). The way parents are continuously on call to help out with teaching art or science, or arranging parties, or coordinating field trips.

My thought as she was saying all this was, “If I have to do all that, I might as well just keep ’em home.”

Which is a really frightening idea to me still.

I’m not much worried about Sophia’s socialization—when she wants to play with other kids, she’s the belle of the playground and directs all the action. When she doesn’t, she sits by herself and refuses all interactions. And while I’m not too certain of Simon’s style of interaction (he’s still at an age where kids play near one another and not so much with one another), I know so far that he’s a pretty sunny kid who’s very bright, both personality-wise and intelligence-wise.

No, I’m going to be out-and-out selfish here and admit that the Number One reason I wouldn’t homeschool is I am afraid I would not have any time to myself during the day, and I really, really need time to myself. One of the early indicators to me that Darin and I were well-suited was that I could stand to be around him for more than three or four hours straight.

But then I read something Sarah’s essay on why she homeschools, and I’m like, Yeah, I’m down with that. Not that I was ever “warehoused” in my schooling, the way I’ve read so many other people were. But I definitely disliked the social aspects of school (the really bright kids, especially when they’re over a year younger than everyone else in the class? not very popular). I got into the habit of making myself appear stupider than I really was. I remember one time I was in a discussion with a couple of people on some topic and I said, “Gosh, I don’t know,” when I clearly did. And after everyone else left, my friend Fritz said to me, “I know you knew what they were talking about.” Of course, he’d acted stupid about it too.

Mind you, we were at Stanford at the time.

If you have to act stupid at Stanford, there’s a problem.

I’d really like my kids to have the experience of enjoying being intelligent and being able to read as much as they want to whenever they want to. That was certainly the best part of any day for me.

But I’m worried too that I would not be able to make time for myself. Maybe it’s easier to do when they get older, I don’t know. But I’m still thinking about it.