It’s easier to see Morgan as the teenager he is when we get out into The World. Out there, for better or worse, he’s beyond my minute-by-minute influence. He can project whatever persona he wants. He can be Morgan. Not Susan’s son. I know the feeling. We’re all somebody’s somebody.

Yesterday I ventured out to my first Teen activity that Bill and Morgan have already attended. Laser tag and Chuck E. Cheese were too much visual stimulation for me. Besides, Bill told me I couldn’t go. “You’ll just come home in a bad mood.” He’s probably right. But a game day at the coordinator’s home seemed save enough.

When I first got there, it was all women of all ages sitting on all the sofas. I wasn’t sure who were the mothers and who were the daughters. Morgan took off with the two other boys. I managed to cull the herd using M’s Creepy Crawlers maker. Most of the daughters were lured to the dining room and given my one-minute bug-baking lesson. The sulker stayed seated besides her mother. I know that feeling, too.

Every once in awhile, I’d go to the door of the den where the boys and a few of the older girls were playing PS2/3 videogames. I’d always pretend to “knock-knock-knock” and not violate their space. Once, to give Morgan the camera and remind him to take movies. The other time to ask the teens what they’d like to do in March. (The moms kept trying to come up with ideas among themselves. I announced I’d go ask. A seemingly simple solution.)

Each time, Morgan was one among many. Still a standout. But not a stand-alone. Once he was digitally recording a three-year-old Guitar Hero. The other time, he was cracking up his youthful audience as he repeatedly shot his faithful yet virtual steed. Always cracking wise. Trying to impress the girls…Where do you think he gets it?

Even this fat, lazy, diabetic isolationist was willing take a shower, strap on a bra and walk across the street for a Chocoholic program at the library tonight. Of course, I used Morgan as my beard. So I couldn’t understand why several of the street urchins from our apartment complex would show up sniffing around the meeting room door w/o their mothers. Come on, put down your crack pipe for some free chocolate!

As we were getting seated for the Power Point presentation (making us wait for dessert), a librarian was shooing away Christian and a few of his elementary-aged friends. It was already 6:30 at night. In February, that means it’s been dark for over an hour. Do their mothers look out the window? Do they know their kids are at the library? Do they care? You gotta wonder. These are young children who parents can’t legally leave them home alone. But somehow it’s okay to inflict them on strangers out in the world alone.

I guess the nice library lady felt bad enough (and there was enough chocolate) to allow the three kiddos to come in for the sampling part of the program. Not fair! But in they burst. Grabbing their paper plates like Dickens orphans and squirming to the head of the line. The two librarians had the foresight to cut and serve their portions of pudding, brownies, cookies, candy, cake and ice cream. Least there be childish gluttony, followed by adult anarchy. We are chocoholics, mind you.

The sugar babies were still licking their plates when we left at 8 o’clock. The library closes at 9. And it’s a school night. Even for nocturnal homeschoolers, that's too late for any nine-year-old to be runnin’ the streets with a chocolate buzz.

What’s that? Well, apparently it’s the new buzzword for any type of activity where you’re not getting paid. You know, fun. Hopefully. And in the context I’m talking, it’s a non-credit class at a community college for Morgan, my 8th grader. That’s high school. Sweet Jesus.

Here’s an example:

High School Biology Lab-Part 2 $149?A two-semester course designed for homeschool students who are looking for additional laboratory experience to learn the basic concepts of biology. It provides an overview of the basic principles of biology including human biology, evolution, genetics, and ecology. Laboratory experiences teach and reinforce the use of scientific method in problem solving. This offers a broad introduction of biology to the non-science student, and provides an appreciation of the beauty and intricacies of the biosphere.

Today Morgan would shit his pants. But you know what? It’s coming. Maybe not this year, but that Bio course is exactly what we’re working towards. With our half-assed labs and spoon-fed scientific method, I’m preparing M for the day when he can walk into a classroom (The World), participate in a semester-long program (Life) and come away “enriched (Happy).” All without me.

Some homeschooling families don’t seemed geared towards those academic goals, external educational opportunities or (The Bigger Picture). Yet that type of investigative process just seems intrinsically important in a human’s experience. Every kid needs to flame-on a Bunsen burner, overflow a test tube or break a Petri dish. Plus we all have a dissection story. Don’t you?

Luckily, Morgan continues to independently take nature workshops and programs at the library without any prodding. He’s certainly suffered through enough homeschoolers’ co-ops. And of course, there was first grade. “One-two-three! Eyes on me.” So given what I know about the nature of organized education, even if he couldn’t read or write to spec they’ll get him through. Especially for 150-bucks.

I don’t care what any educational study or parents’ reactionary group may say, television with all its faults, is still a rich, thought-provoking tool for parents. Granted, you can’t use it as your one-trick pony, but Morgan has seen an array of images I could never imagine. Talkies enhance text.

Earlier this week we were reading a short narrative from a novel suggesting ways/reasons Stonehenge was built. First of all, M’s not too keen on fiction. Give him just the facts, please. He wanted no part of the whole Harry Potter phenom. And the only reason he’s enjoying The Swiss Family Robinson is because it’s chocked full of primitive technologies, nature studies and gunplay. So I knew I’d need to beef up this lit.

We went to our Usborne Encyclopedia of World History for better illustrations, full of cut-aways and little sound bites of info. It basically showed Morgan everything that corny story had told him. The idea of carving the stones at the quarry made perfect sense to him. The use of the wooden sleds led to a conversation about the Egyptian pyramids. Which (don’t tell my son) led back to our lesson on Cultural Diffusion. Monuments like Stonehenge, incidentally, were built in Western Europe hundreds of years before the pyramids. So who taught whom? Space aliens? Another tangent.

The next afternoon, Morgan called me to “Hurry,” into his room. Channel surfing he’d come across a documentary about, you guessed it, Stonehenge. It wasn’t Ancient Mysteries narrated by Mr. Spock, but it was close. Not too dry, with some credible female archeologist tromping around recounting everything we’d read. Then she moved on to theories about the Silbury Hill earth mound near Avebury, Wiltshire actually being a signal tower for synchronized Pagan rituals. Human sacrifices, perhaps? Now Morgan (from the Welsh or Old English, meaning "great and bright," with all its Arthurian implications) was hooked.

Finally when I asked him if he’d like to visit England, “Maybe,” was his reply. And like I’ve said, for my teenager, that’s as positive of a response as I am gonna get.

Ask certain curators, naturalists, librarians or docents who have worked with home educators and they will tell you to Beware. The kids are feral and the mothers expect us to run a program that works for the 3, 8 and 14 year olds while they’re off nursing their infants. Gee, sound familiar?

I’m helping a local nature center organize their first Homeschoolers’ Open House in the Spring. At our next Board Meeting, I need to present some specific classes and programs to finalize funding for the event. I’ve given them my opinion, but I posted to several local yahoo groups to learn the type of programs other homeschoolers want. Not just in terms of the Open House, but what specific science opportunities are lacking in our area.

I know the staff is approaching this event with trust in my word and trepidation from their experience. As it turns out the naturalist with whom I’m working is the same woman who was our guide for a hike at another center several years ago. It was miserably hot. Some of the little girls wore their flip-flops. There was much whining from and carrying of the younger children. A relaxing ramble morphed into a trail of tears.

And I remember the group finally arriving at the stream for our geology lesson where Kriste announced that some of the rocks were slightly magnetic. She knelt down to find a few samples, but by the time she stood up, the kids had scattered to the wind—all picking up and pocketing their own stones. Let’s hope there’s no Minebank Run curse.

So here I am, on the homeschool/real world cusp. I certainly feel the frustration of their no-shows, lethargy and general flakiness. But as one who still uses our pilfered magnetic memento to hold open textbooks, even my tight-ass needs some leeway.