Unschooling on Vacation in Florida Part 1

The term "vacation" doesn't really apply to unschoolers, who are not regimented into a time schedule or specific learning space. But since our family has just returned from five weeks in Florida, and English doesn't have a better term for that kind of sojourn, I'll just call it a vacation.

What always amazes me is how much one can learn simply by stepping out of the everyday routine. We did not design an educational field trip. This trip was a celebration of my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. They invited my husband, my sons, and me to spend the month of February with them in sunny, warm Florida to get out of the frigid northeast winter. They rented a house off the internet in Jensen Beach on the Atlantic Coast and we just planned on being with my parents, hanging out by the pool, and playing on the beach.

We took this trip in stages. My younger sons, 11 and 14, and I left freezing NJ the last weekend in January, driving towards Florida. First stop: friends in Catonsville, Maryland (outside Baltimore). Aside from visiting with my delightful friends, we wandered through music stores and toured Baltimore. We spent half a day at the acclaimed National Aquarium, wandering from rainforest to arctic, then cheering on the trained dolphins as they leapt and splashed.

Leaving Monday morning, I drove south, watching our car's outdoor thermometer slowly creep up from 29 degrees in Maryland, to 36 in southern Virginia, and finally a balmy 56 when we stopped for the night in Charleston, South Carolina. The boys and I ditched our warm wool socks and left our winter coats in the car.

The following day we arrived in Jensen Beach, Florida where the temperature was 79 degrees! The home my parents rented was unbelievably large, beautifully decorated and filled to the gills with original artwork! At dinner, we discussed the quantity of the paintings on the walls, which sparked the boys to estimate how many. Younger son guessed 45. Older son thought the number was much higher, in the 70s. My parents thought there might even be 80. After dinner, the boys carefully counted every painting hanging in each room of the house, including the outdoor bathroom and discovered that everyone had guessed too low: 106 paintings! Most of them were done by Cuban artists. Fascinating. Surrounded by all this art, we felt as though we were living in a very comfortable museum. Along with the art were many books about Cuba, art, and antiques.
The patio housed the swimming pool and spa, and backed up to a nature sanctuary where many nature birds nested and fed. The boys photographed pelicans, cranes, and even a bald eagle.

And they swam! Living in NJ and having no pool, we don't have many opportunities to swim.
Little guy set a goal: by the end of the month he'd like to be able to swim 25 laps. Day One he swam three laps.

If you are keeping track, by the time we had spent one day in Jensen Beach, the boys had covered science, social studies, art, math, and physical education.

To Be Continued...

Infusing Foods with Magic and Love

I've just finished reading a novel combining the sensuality of cooking with romance, called The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman. In the book, Jess (a vegan) pores over a collection of centuries-old cookbooks while falling in love with the curmudgeonly book dealer. Those ancient cookbooks relied on description and hand-drawn illustration, pre-dating mathematical measurements. Interspersed with the recipes, Jess found love poems using the words from the recipes written by the original owner. This book reminded me of the magical realism in 1989's Like Water for Chocolate. In that story, Tita sickened an entire wedding party when her tears of sadness over her lost love fell into the wedding soup. What do they have in common? Magic and love.

As a vegan cook, I am frequently asked what I use to substitute for animal products in my dishes. My usual half-joking response is "magic and love." As I think more about it, I discover that magic and love are the additives that turn all combinations of ingredients into meals. The alchemy that turns flour, oil and sugar into a fluffy, light cupcake is magical. But that is only one half of the equation. The best, most delicious foods are infused with love. I know it sounds new-agey hippy dippy, but I have anecdotal evidence that this works.

Last summer at Camp Common Ground, a vegetarian family camp in Starksboro, Vermont, I experienced this principle first hand working in the kitchen. Every afternoon at 4:30, I arrived to help cook and serve dinner for the other 130 campers. The rest of the kitchen staff, Karyl Kent, the coordinator, and Naomi, the head dinner cook, had been hard at work for hours. The instant I arrived, I was greeted with enormous smiles, hugs, and kisses. The vibe in that kitchen was all love. Some days, music poured from an ipod in the corner and there was singing. Some days, no music played but there was still singing.

Every night's meals began with whole grains and the freshest, most colorful locally-grown vegetables . Our bread was baked daily in camp's outdoor brick oven by Isaiah, a student of Qi Gong and truly loving person. Even campers who eschew carbohydrates in their daily lives could not resist Isaiah's hand-crafted sourdough loaves.

Naomi's expertise was preparing raw bright, crisp greens. She crafted healthy, delicious salads that were so tasty, people filled their plates again and again. Her secret was to massage the greens, infusing them with her positive energy and love.

Inspired by the vibe in Camp Common Ground's kitchen and Naomi's techniques, here is a simple kale salad that I make at home. I have purposely left off the measurements because in this recipe, intention and technique are more important than amounts. (Also, it feeds much fewer than 130 people.) Feel free to toy around with the dressing amounts until you are satisfied with the salad.

Asian Massaged Kale Salad
2 bunches crisp raw kale, washed
fresh ginger, diced fine
sesame oil
apple cider vinegar with mother
soy sauce
maple syrup
cayenne pepper
(raw almonds, raisins) optional

Whisk ginger, oil, vinegar, soy sauce and maple syrup and pepper together. Taste, adjust accordingly. With clean hands, pour dressing over kale. Massage well, until kale looks darker and slightly wilted. Add optional almonds and raisins. Allow to sit and marinate for at least 30 minutes before eating.
Serve alongside your favorite tofu recipe or a bowl of miso soup.

Sun-dried Tomato Hummus

I've been snowed in for several days with my husband and my kids, so I have been making lots of food. In addition to baking bread, I've had my crockpot churning out lentil and rice, marinara sauce simmering on the stove, and pasta boiling. But sometimes we all just want to grab a snack or make a sandwich, for which I made my simple sun-dried tomato hummus. It reminds us a little bit of pizza, it's that good. We spread it on bread, dip crackers into it, and wrap it up in romaine leaves.

Sun-Dried Tomato Hummus

1 15 oz. can chick peas
1/4 cup tahini
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 clove garlic
3 tbsp olive oil
water
2 tsp salt
7 sun-dried tomatoes, drained
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried basil

Combine chick peas, tahini, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil and salt in food processor until smooth. If lumpy, add water a tablespoon at a time and pulse until desired consistency. Add sundried tomatoes, oregano and basil and process again until smooth.

Garnish with: fresh basil leaf, slice of fresh tomato, chopped black olives, or chopped garlic.
Will last in refrigerator for several days.

Olive Rosemary Bread for my new Breadmaker

For Christmas, I received a bread maker. I can't for the life of me explain why I have never gotten one before. Seven people live in this house, and we all eat a lot of bread. Better late than never, I suppose.

My first attempt at bread failed. After that, I followed directions ex-act-ly from recipes I found on the internet for vegan breadmaker breads. No substitutions. No experiments. My results were much better for plain whole wheat, white, and oat loaves.

Feeling confident, I decided to use the same ratios of liquids-to-solids for the breads I'd already made and try my hand at an original olive-rosemary bread. While it was baking, the herbs scented the whole house. It turned out better than I had hoped. The kids couldn't wait to cut into it, but after an initial taste, I held them off long enough to snap a photo.

Lynne's Recipe for Olive and Rosemary Bread-maker bread (yields large 1/12 - 2 lb loaf)

1 1/2 c plus 2 tbsp.warm water
4 Tbsp. olive oil
3 tsp sugar
3 tsp salt
3/4 tsp ground black pepper
3 1/2 c bread flour
2 1/2 tsp yeast
1/2 tsp dried rosemary
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/4 tsp dried basil
1/2 c chopped pitted kalamata olives

Put in water, oil, sugar, salt, pepper, flour in order (or in manufacturer-suggested order). Make a well with finger in center of flour. Add yeast. Set machine for "white" or "basic" and "medium" crust. Start machine. After approximately 40 minutes ("rise"), add rosemary, oregano, basil and olives. Make sure all ingredients are added in (use rubber spatula to scrape any off sides or bottom).

Let cool. Slice. Serve with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, or sun-dried tomato hummus.

I Believe in You

In Tina Fey’s fourth Emmy acceptance speech, she self-deprecatingly credited her parents. “I want to thank my parents for somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do.” Tina Fey entered the precarious, male-dominated field of comedy. Her parents could have discouraged her. They could have told her she wasn't pretty enough, or talented enough, or that the field was simply too hard to enter.

My own intelligent 20 year old daughter, Julia, could succeed as a diplomat, an international business leader, and a network executive. Her work ethic is unparalleled and she has a multitude of skills and knowledge. She has a 3.8 at the University of Massachusetts with a double major. Her plan: to be a Disney princess! This is the same dream she had when she was four.

Is it a parent’s role to unconditionally support a child’s decisions? Or is it the parent’s responsibility to protect the child from making mistakes? I think it is my role to unconditionally support the decisions, regardless of my opinion of them.

Truthfully, I am nervous for her. It is possible that she won't make the cut. Maybe she will get a role but won't make enough money to pay her bills. I could tell her “That’s a frivolous career. You are too smart, serious, studious for that. Try engineering like Dad. Try accounting like your grandfather.” But I keep it to myself. To her, I say, “You’ll be an excellent princess. Let’s research how you can get a job in a Disney theme park."

There are plenty of people willing to squash a young person’s dreams. In the field of acting, there are legions of agents, casting directors, and other actors whose sole purposes seems to be to strip an actor of dignity and hope. There are well-meaning, loving people in my family, two of whom raised me (whose identity shall remain cleverly disguised), who helpfully encourage my children to pursue careers they view as more practical. But things have changed in our economy since their heyday in the 1960s. Prestigious careers of old no longer exist. Attorneys discourage their children from attending law school. Doctors warn to steer clear of medicine. All I know with certainty is that I will not know what careers will exist in five years. New careers crop up regularly. Just because we are adults does not mean we are clairvoyant. I can’t see the future. I can only see my bright, optimistic children, growing into adults.

Tina Fey’s parents could have suggested that Tina become a math teacher. Tina would still have loved them and probably thanked them in her acceptance speech. But they believed in their daughter’s ability to make her dreams come true. As a result, Tina has risen to the top in a fiercely competitive field. Against all odds, she is the Emmy-award winning creator, writer, and star of a successful network television show.

As a mother, I don’t have to believe in my children’s dreams. I have to believe in my children. There will always be well-meaning friends and relatives to burst their bubbles. I want to be the person who always, always has confidence in them. I hope if any of my kids ever win an Emmy, they will thank me for my unrelenting belief that they would make it.

On the 5th day of juice fast my stomach takes to the stage

Saturday was Day 5 of my green juice fast. I woke up to a very grumbly sound and realized that it was coming from inside me. Disturbed, I jumped out of bed to juice some carrots, kale and cucumber and drank it speedily. Rather than quieting the growl, the juice only seemed to feed the beast. It had somehow gotten louder, filling the entire kitchen. All day the grumbling, growling, roaring followed me around the house while I did my chores and even accompanied me on my errands.

Saturday evening, my 13 year old son and I had tickets to see an off-Broadway play entitled "In the Heat of the Night." I hoped that my loud digestive system would not disturb the two people unfortunately seated on either side of me. When we arrived at 59E59, we discovered that the theatre was an intimate black box. All the action took place in the squared off area, and we audience sat surrounding the square. My seat was in the first of the two rows on the corner from which actors passed to enter the stage. Before the show, we were informed to silence cell phones, unwrap candies, and note that if we needed to leave the theatre for any reason, we would not be allowed re-entry. It was a quiet show, one without much music, sound effects or any props, in a small, enclosed space. My grumbling continued. I glanced around, looking to see whether there was a reaction from the man sitting next to me. So far, he amazingly managed not to notice. As the show progressed, the tension mounted. The murder mystery with racist
At a particularly intense moment, a police officer took down to his knees a murder suspect and cuffed him at my feet. Then the two actors froze in that pose as other actors across the stage had dialogue. "Glurg, grrrr, roarrrrr," filled my ears. Head one foot from me, at lap level, the actor had to try hard not to react to the incredibly strange noises emitting from my gut. But I could see him looking quizzically at me. I shrugged and tilted my head, aimed at the quiet man to my right, as if it were HIS ridiculously loud innards creating havoc.

Fortunately, I was not removed from my seat. The show was outstanding. I highly recommend it. See it on a full stomach, it will save you embarrassment.