After the wood man had dropped the wood, when I was paying him, he quizzed me about our kids schooling. As they all skipped around the van he was curious as to why they were not in school. After I told him what we do, he went on to do mental Kung Fu on my psyche. If his words were a gun, he first shot my knee, then went on to my arm, he did not let his gun drop and I stood there and I took it.
He asked me if I was a qualified teacher and if not what on earth do I know. His final shot was to the heart and it went like this… ‘I am sorry but unless your children go to school they will be nothing, nothing, sorry to tell you that but it is true’. And he left.
I do not blame the wood man. I blame myself. At what point did I let him in? At what point did I blurt out our lives to him. Why did I do it? Why didn’t I say, here is your money Mr Wood man and there is the exit. Don’t bang your van in to the gate as you leave…
It is a conversation that will follow us everywhere. There are many Mr Woodmen around. I get it. What we are doing is not normal, it is the road less travelled and who am I to think that I can explain our lives and philosophies on education in 5 minutes, when it has taken me years to understand why we are doing this.
So I thank you Mr Woodman. For reminding me to know when to close the conversation, to know when to not get sucked in to another person’s fear for what we are doing with regards to our children’s education. I thank you for trashing me in an instant and for the learning you gave me as we carry on stepping out in to the road less travelled and we watch our children blossom. I thank you for teaching me that it is enough that we know what we are doing and it is fine even when others don’t.
Mr Wood man. I love you.