Fiona's "Grade 4" year

When the kids were younger, our natural homeschooling year was kind of upside-down. Winter would see us spending a lot of down-time in front of the fire, energy and creativity at a bit of an ebb. Once the longer days and warm weather began in spring, learning would explode. The summer fun of outdoor activities, community special events and music workshops would propel things forward. In fall any scheduled activities would start anew and there would be lots of enthusiasm, all of which would end in a big crescendo leading into holiday celebrations, performances, crafting and gift-giving. After that a couple of months of fallow time felt natural and healthy.

We also didn't really have a difference between weekdays and weekends. We were as likely to take a "nothing day" to just stay home and chill on a Wednesday as on a Saturday, and a history of Canada book was as likely to get pulled out on a Sunday evening as a Monday morning.

Once we started adding school to the mix, though, we kind of fell into a more traditional school year. This year Fiona's homeschooling has been even more strongly ruled by the school calendar than in the past since she opted to do a course at school and had both her live-at-home siblings in school full time.

She wanted to do a fair amount of bookwork, but she decided she would only do it on weekdays, and only until school let out in June. Sounds a lot like school-at-home, doesn't it? So be it: that's what she wanted. She started out with some tentative plans to do some handwriting workbooks, some curricular novel studies, to graze through a math enrichment book (Challenge Math) and to dabble in a bit more of the TOPS chemistry program. She also wanted to continue with gymnastics and to participate in homeschool art classes, to take Spanish in the classroom at school, and to continue with the Law and Government workshops in Nelson. She also decided to continue on with violin lessons even though that meant studying with her mother as her teacher -- definitely not her preferred structure, but the only option for continuing formal study at this point. We wrote all this down as a plan for our DL program so that we could revisit it, regalvanize our efforts and/or amend the plan as needed.

So how did it all play out?

The handwriting books arrived in the mail today. Long story, three complicated chapters with one long intermission. So that didn't happen, not yet anyway. TOPS chemistry .... well, she did a bit early in the fall, but then she seemed to not want that structure, and science just meandered off on serendipitous tangents according to whatever experiences and interests came her way -- volcanos, DNA, natural history, astronomy, all very loose and led by whims. No textbooks, no output, no plan, whatever goes. During the fall her interest in math bookwork seemed to have pretty much fizzled. I don't think she did anything much until the end of November when, at the back of the classroom where her art classes are held she encountered the school's Grade 8 textbook and fell in love. We borrowed a copy and she continued to really enjoyed it, finishing the whole course by the beginning of May. She even chose to write the same final exam the schoolkids wrote, albeit in the comfort of her own home (she's finishing it up as I write this post). The curricular novel studies? She did one, enjoyed it because it was something new, did another and wasn't feeling the love any more, so that was the end of that.

Law and Government was awesome, finishing with a great moot court experience. Gymnastics has been great; she was asked to move up to the most advanced recreational class for her age and we had to ask the Corazoners for some concessions on their transportation to make the schedule work, but it was definitely worth it as she's much more challenged. Spanish worked out as a second-semester course and she roundly enjoyed it, fitting in well and even taking on a natural leadership role with the older kids in group project work.

Violin has been not entirely successful. When she studied with an "outside teacher" the implicit expectation by that teacher (even if it was "just" her grandmother)  of regular practicing was enough to ensure that she did her half hour of practicing most days. She also tends to be socially motivated by things that family members are busy with, and this year neither Noah nor Sophie have teachers (they're well beyond a level that I or other teachers in the area could teach at) so she hasn't had that family momentum to get caught up in. And she suffered the fate that all the other local students suffered: a shared master class of 90 minutes didn't offer them nearly enough individualized guidance to progress optimally. So she's struggled with motivation, and has practiced rather minimally -- briefly two to four times a week on average. We've managed to recruit a teacher to the area for next year and she's decided there's enough chance that that will help that she's willing to carry on through the summer. She's also looking forward to SVI of course, and will get a chance to do some chamber music there.

So that's it for the planned stuff. There's been a lot of pretty great unplanned learning ... the Vi Hart videos, the snorkelling in Hawaii, the XC skiing, the fascination with maps and globes, the conversations, podcasts, documentaries, encounters with interesting people, books read, computer games played, TV shows inhaled, community events, family expeditions, friendships, performances and volunteer activities.

She did have a low point in late winter where she began talking about going to school next fall to fix whatever she was seeing as the problem. There was some social stuff behind it I think -- perhaps she had been slightly excluded at a social function by the clique of girls who dominate the class she would be in at school. I was in the process of setting up a trial week for her at school when the ground shifted again and she told me not to bother. She spent a morning with the Grade 4/5/6 group at a theatre workshop and found herself very frustrated by the time and energy that had to be spend on behaviour management. "Not worth it for me, at all," was Fiona's verdict. For what it's worth, I think the teacher is amazing, she's one of my best friends, and most years her classroom would be a lovely place to spend some time. This particular group of kids, though... well, things are a little over the top, even for her.

After that brief flirt with the idea of school Fiona's spring energy kicked in, and ever since she has seemed really happy with what she's doing and where she's at. She has loved the independence she's had this year during my teaching time, taking on some volunteer work, some small bits of paid housekeeping at an apartment, a bit of mother's-helper type babysitting, she likes the crazy fun drives to Nelson with all those teenagers, her friendships with various older and younger kids, the travelling we've done and the "chill" time she gets at home. For most of the year there's been little structured learning other than the math two or three times a week,  and the Spanish class, but there has been lots of other stuff and she's curious and creative and full of enthusiasm.

Winters, especially late winters, are always hard here. Perhaps if we plan ways to cope with that nadir ahead of time next year we won't suffer for it.

And so ... onwards into summer and beyond.

Another year of school

Rose and the Doctor at school on Fictional Character Day

Classes have ended at the local high school. Sophie and Noah are in the midst of exams. This represents the completion of Sophie's second and Noah's first year of full-time school. They've also just completed course selection for next year. It feels like a suitable time to reflect and look ahead.

It's a tiny high school and it seems to be getting tinier all the time. There are some compromises that are inevitable, but of course there are some tremendous advantages. Chief among the advantages is the fact that at a school this size each student becomes the co-author of an unofficial Individualized Education Plan. The teachers know the students very well indeed. The teachers are few enough in number (five!) that they communicate and co-operate extensively and naturally so that they can each get a holistic view  of the student and his or her interaction with the courses. At a school of this size no one ever says "we can't make an exception for just one student!" It is a school made up of exceptions. And so my kids have found it a comfortable place to be.

Despite Noah's incredibly strong written English abilities (he scored perfect marks on all three of his final English essays and his History 12 teacher thinks he's amazing), his jaw-dropping musicality on viola and his deep affinity for choral music and Corazón, he seems to be leaning towards sciences at this point. He took both Biology 11 and 12 this year, and Pre-Calc 11, and seems to have done very well. Next year will be his senior year and he'll fill in the rest of his pre-university science roster, as well as taking a Programming 12 course. I hope he'll continue to be happy at school next year: a lot of the social interest and challenge this year came from sharing classes with five fairly academically-minded Grade 12 students. But they're done now, and at this point there are no other students in 11th grade planning post-secondary studies.

Sophie is still registered in her age-grade, but this year ended up in accelerated courses for pretty much all her academics. The level of challenge is a better fit for her, especially in English (she was already ahead for math and science) and she is looking forward to sinking her teeth into more specialized sciences next year. She too is more interested in sciences than anything else. Because they held her actual declared grade level back in keeping with her age, she has three more years of high school, which is a lot of time to fill. We'll have to see how that plays out as she gets older.

Next year will bring a further evolution of the high school program. Students will get very little traditional classroom time. Each month will include the option for one week to be spent in non-traditional "immersion electives," most of which are out of the classroom, focused on things like agriculture, back-country survival skills, sports, ethnobotany and a variety of other possibilities. Students who choose not to do a particular immersion elective will be in school but with fewer teachers about. They'll have tutorial time on Mondays, where they meet with a teacher one-on-one to keep tabs on their goals, planning and progress through various courses. They'll get one or possibly two "seminar" classes per core course each week, where they will explore that subject in a multi-grade group-based manner -- possibly with some direct teaching, by doing labs or a group project or exploring ideas through discussion. And for the non-core courses, and for all the rest of the learning in those core classes, they'll be doing self-directed study. A lot of the content comes from textbooks, but increasingly many of the courses are based on-line.

During non-elective weeks, the schedule will be similar, but with a little more classroom/seminar time. So there's almost none of the traditional "sit in your desk with your age-mates and be taught by a teacher" stuff left by next year. The school has been experimenting with non-traditional learning for a long time, but it feels like this is the tipping point. Essentially traditional classroom-based learning is gone.

I like the model. The electives capitalize on the passions and expertise of the teaching staff and on the unique things our valley has to offer by virtue of its environment. The in-school model of seminars and self-directed course-work seems like an efficient way to use 5 teachers (most of them part-time) to administer over thirty different courses to fewer than forty different students. It also allows highly capable students to theoretically move ahead quickly and in their own directions. I say theoretically, because they will also need the motivation, the work ethic and the organizational skills to make that happen. I think my kids, because they've been self-directing and self-structuring throughout their lives, will probably do just fine. Certainly Erin did well with a very self-directed model through this school, and Noah has managed pretty well this year with his self-paced math course. Sophie is diligent and organized and I think she'll make it work.

But I'm not sure it's going to work for a lot of kids. Will a brief weekly tutorial with a teacher be enough to ensure that they actually do that self-directed work throughout the week? Even the Grade 7 and 8 kids will be part of this model to a significant extent. I hope there's a good safety net to catch the kids for whom the personal responsibility for self-direction is too much too soon.

And I'm not sure how it might play out for Fiona. She had thought of doing Math 9 at school next year for the collegiality of being in classroom with fellow students. But if "doing math at school" consists of a weekly multi-grade seminar and a lot of self-study, is that enough of what she wants to warrant having to abide by the school's time-line, the testing and grading, the constraints on her out-of-school activities? We'll be thinking and talking about that.

At any rate, the year seems to have been very successful for both kids, and they're happy with where they're at. With the two of them there full-time I kept expecting to feel some wistfulness about the end of their homeschooled educations. But it hasn't felt like that at all, and it didn't with Erin either. That's because I've never really thought of homeschooling and schooling as being two competing choices for us. They're just two possible equally leitimate answers to the questions we've always asked the kids and let them have full autonomy over: how much structure do you want for your learning, and how and where do you want to get it?

The Delica

Remember way back in 2008 when I was driving Erin and Noah to Calgary once a month for lessons, and was pining for a Mitsubishi Delica? It would hold our family and instruments and groceries, and would transport the Corazon choir kids, and would get up and down our driveway, and be reliable on our mountain roads during the winter. At the time, Chuck talked me down. We needed a reliable vehicle that could be serviced locally, not an ancient Japanese monster that no one had a clue what to do with.

So what changed? Well, we eked four and a half more years out of the Sienna and although I'm still driving seven kids to Nelson once a week, we're within spitting distance of no longer needing all that passenger space. Two of those teens are graduating and moving away, which brings us down to 5 passengers and a driver, and in a year and a half Noah will likely move on too. So we still need a minivan, but only for another year or two.

The other thing that changed is that there's now a service station in Nelson that is specializing in working on these things.

I wrestled with the fuel economy issue. I feel no end of guilt over the fuel we burn for transportation. While living rurally allows us to cut our carbon footprint in several important areas, transportation is definitively not one of them. Part of me really wanted to hold out for a hybrid Toyota Highlander. But we had to buy Erin a violin this year, and a Highlander would have meant making a big long-term (financed) investment. Would we be kicking ourselves in a couple of years, making payments an expensive near-new Highlander when our passenger needs had diminished to Prius proportions?

And really ... by owning a minivan we are saving the need for a second vehicle to drive all those kids to Nelson every week. Our minivan is certainly not burning as much fuel as would be required to get two smaller Kootenay-winter-worthy vehicles to Nelson and back.

Besides, the Delica gets remarkably good mileage for a 4WD vehicle. It's almost as good as the Sienna 2WD which is right near the top for 7+ passenger vehicle fuel economy. No, it's not a Prius, not a Leaf. But those aren't realistic for us right now.

We've owned the Delica for a little more than a month now. No nasty surprises so far from a mechanical standpoint. Driving it has taken a bit of getting used to. Mostly for the high, truck-like feel. The right-hand drive was surprisingly no big deal. The kids absolutely love it: the modular seating and sun roof makes for a sociable living-room feel in the passenger seats and the rides back and forth to Nelson are quite lovely.

Bokashi experience so far

Last fall we started using a bokashi waste system. All food waste, including meat, bones, dairy and small amounts of oil and fat, went into a plastic 5-gallon bucket with a lid, combined with sprinkles of a microbial starter. We used a potato masher to pack down the waste as it accumulated, creating a fairly anaerobic environment. Once a bucket was packed full, we sealed it off from ambient oxygen and left it for at least a couple of weeks and started a new bucket.

After 2-4 weeks, the bokashi fermentation would be complete, Todd the Bokashi Guy told us. We took him at his word, but having seen the stuff coming out of the community bins at last fall's Harvest Festival it was hard to believe that much had actually happened. The food looked almost the same as when it had gone into the bucket. It smelled worse, to be sure -- a combination of vinegar and vomit, maybe? -- but the colour and structure was pretty much preserved.

Really, Todd? I thought. Well, let's work on the assumption that you're right. We'll assume that some sort of invisible process has occurred, and this stuff is really mostly digested like you say, appearances to the contrary. If you're right it'll turn into fully finished compost in days rather than weeks once we get it into the garden.

So all winter we fermented our food waste. When all three buckets filled we emptied the oldest of them in the compost area beside the garden to await spring. We piled on some dried leaves, and hoped beyond hope that once the pile warmed up in the spring we wouldn't end up with a party of bears and cougars feasting off a massive yummy pile of table-scrap soup.

And so now the weather is warm. And the verdict?

Todd was right!

Today I took the fork out and probed through the heap which has received a total of about forty gallons of food waste over the past seven months. The two most recent five-gallon additions to this pile were 4 weeks ago and 3 days (yes, days!) ago. I haven't done much mixing other than piling on some leaves, so I expected to see Monday's food sitting right below the top layer of leaves in all its colourful slimy glory. But no: there is an occasional recognizable bit of citrus fruit rind from the most recent addition, but other than that the pile is black gold.

And ... this has been our best spring in recent memory when it comes to bears. As far as I know we haven't had a single ursine creature lingering on our property. The dog agrees.

So yeah, bokashi for the win, I say!

40th Anniversary SSSG Trip

This year was the 40th anniversary of the Suzuki program I grew up in. The program back "home," in Ontario, a place I left in 1981, where none of us lived for a while but where my sister and my mom now live again. A few months ago I had been warned that I was expected to attend the celebration at the end of April. As one who tends not to do a good job of maintaining old relationships, I tend to balk at the prospect of school and college reunions. I live more in the here and now. I'm not much of one for nostalgia. But this was different. I wanted to go. 

Fiona, my sister and me puzzling over quartet music

My brothers were both coming. So were the kids who were part of the chamber group I grew up with. Unlike my friends in high school, my relationships with these kids had been an authentic part of who I was then ... a part that had stayed with me even through the years of no contact. Now we were all pushing 50. Wow.

Erin was still in exams in Montreal. Noah and Sophie were off on tour with their choir during the week that overlapped with the beginning of the anniversary celebration. So Fiona and I decided to go just the two of us, leaving Chuck to work and to be the parent after Sophie and Noah returned. We would attend the gala weekend, then drive up to Montreal after Erin's last exam was over and use our rental vehicle to help Erin move from the "mansion" where she's lived the past two years to a tiny bachelor apartment in the student ghetto. And then the three of us would fly home together.

The weekend was amazing, from the family time with siblings and raucous restaurant meals to the gala catered dinner, the alumni performance I was part of to the final performance that involved alumni, alumni offspring (i.e. Fiona) and all current students playing together at the big new (to me) performing arts centre.

Me, my two brothers, Fiona, my mom and my sister at the banquet

Afterwards there was more family time, and we spent time at my mom's jamming with some string quartets. Fiona even got to play along for a movement with the big people.

Backstage at the performing arts centre with a veritable flock of Bach Double-ists

And then -- what were we thinking?! -- we drove through Toronto and all the way out past Ottawa to Montreal. We cleaned the heck out of Erin's old place, packed her stuff, drove through traffic-and-construction-clogged downtown Montreal back and forth and back and forth and back and forth with our little compact car, delivering boxes and piles of things. And cleaned more, and slept on the floor, again. And cleaned more and drove more through downtown. And then bashed our way back through rush hours in Canada's two largest cities once more a day and a half after driving east. We escaped without any real mishaps and miraculously no parking tickets. 

We arrived home very tired, two of us with crashing head colds, but delighted to have been able to attend. Reconnecting with family and friends was amazing. Fiona was a wonderful travelling companion; she put up with everything happily and loved meeting everyone, whether she knew who they were or not. And it was lovely to see where Erin is ensconced in Montreal. 

Most of the living room floor at Erin's new place. Did I mention it is small?

Math cat

Though still essentially an out-and-out unschooler, Fiona has been taking Introductory Spanish at the local school this semester. Nominally she's in Grade 4 and the requirement for second-language learning doesn't kick in until Grade 5 within the DL program we're part of. But she was interested in doing something like this. When we first raised the possibility last fall, our DL liaison teacher who happens to also teach Spanish and Math at the local school looked at the schedule for us and we were disappointed: Spanish was scheduled for Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Tuesdays conflicted with Fiona's gymnastics, and Wednesdays with her violin master class. So we set Spanish aside in the hope that it might work out for next year.

Then the high school schedule got shuffled, and Spanish ended up on Mondays and Fridays during Semester 2. This worked out perfectly: these are Fiona's two completely empty days. Although the course is intended for students in Grades 7 through 12 (with the bulk being Grades 7 & 8, as it's an introductory course), the teacher knows her well and was happy to welcome her. Our current principal is generally quite opposed to grade-skipping, but there is a policy that DL students can be welcomed into any class with the approval of the teacher. We had that approval, and since Spanish isn't offered to younger grades no one could really ask "why wasn't she placed with her age-mates?"

She's doing well in the course. Her test and assignment marks have been great, and she's fitting in very well, participating well in class and, more amazingly still, taking on leadership roles in group projects. She loves all the trappings of school: the binder she takes, the supplies that tuck into it, the schedule of three hours a week that she needs to be there, the deadlines for assignments, the studying for tests. It's been a fabulous introduction to school for her.

She would like to attend school a bit more next year. The obvious course to add would be math, since it's the one subject in which she has been following the school's curriculum. The wrinkle is that she's four years ahead age-wise. But Spanish has given her a chance to show that she fits in socially with those kids and can handle the organizational expectations of a high-school style course.

Yesterday she was doing some algebra at home from the end of the Grade 8 workbook. It had snowed outside. The wood stove had a nice hot burn going and the living room was cozy and warm. Fiona was sitting on the sofa with a London Fog in a mug in front of her. The cat was curled up beside her being cute and loving.

Fiona decided that math should always be done this way. "Everyone should have a math cat," she said. "This will be one of my Terms & Conditions for doing math at school next year." We envisioned the scenario:

Teacher: "Okay, everyone open your books to Unit 6.2. I would like you to do the odd-numbered practice problems on page 142 and 143. Can someone help me with this box? Thanks. You can come and get your cats now."

The teacher and a student yank the lid off large Rubbermaid container. The nineteen cats inside begin to stir.

Teacher: "One cat only per student, please.... "

Spring Break in Hawai'i

The snorkelling was amazing.

I've been somewhere tropical twice, both times to Baja California. Once by VW bus, once, in an extravagance borne of at deep Northern Ontario winter, by plane. The last time was 22 years ago. Our last attempt at a real family holiday away, in 2008, was an abject failure. So we were excited but also rather cautious about the prospects for a true mid-winter tropical holiday. When Noah broke his foot a week before we left, we hoped that was it for misfortune this time around. As it turned out, this was the case.

Papaya tree off our lanai. Stuff for smoothies!

 We got on our flight without incident. Noah's crutches earned him early boarding, which was a nice bonus! We had a breath of tropical air in Maui before skipping over to the Big Island on a short flight.

We had rented a house about 40 minutes south of Kona in a rural neighbourhood overlooking the Pacific. The house turned out to be perfect: spacious but not grandiose, nicely appointed but without the sort of opulence that would have made us nervous. It had two bedrooms plus a loft with a bed, two bathrooms, a nice open living area and a lovely lanai (deck) running all the way around. There were lovely neon green geckos that inhabited the exterior of the house and the railings.

Kilauea caldera at night

From the deck we could practically touch the papayas and coconuts hanging from trees. There were baby pineapples and avocados on the property as well. Another popular fruit tree was the noni -- but purely for ornamental reasons, as its fruit is known colloquially as the vomit fruit or starvation fruit, as our noses attested upon close inspection.

The neighbours' roosters, some wild turkeys, yellow-billed cardinals and mourning doves filled  the air with lovely sounds, and at quiet times we could hear the waves crashing on the beach below. "Below" meant 2 kilometres along a winding road which led relentlessly and precipitously down to a lonely pebble beach; grades were as high as 22%. It's amazing what is possible with road-building when there is no possibility of snow!

We ate at home, mostly, but also did occasional lunches at various small restaurants along the highway between where we were staying and whatever was the snorkelling or sight-seeing destination of the day. We had about a week in Hawai'i and filled it with a fair bit of chill-time at the house, day trips here and there, and a fair bit of snorkelling.

We took a day at Hawai'i Volcanos National Park. Noah was able to do a couple of short hikes with us: one through a lava tube and another into part of the caldera featuring sulfur crystals and steam vents. We headed to Hilo for dinner and then returned to Kilauea after sunset to see the fiery glow of the crater lighting up the steam and smoke above. Volcanic activity here isn't nearly as impressive as it was 10 years ago, when lava was pouring across roads and into the ocean on a daily basis, but there it is still in evidence throughout the park. Fiona is now busy putting together a science fair project about lava ("The Effect of Agitation During Cooling on Crystal Formation").

The kids definitely enjoyed snorkelling, and the reefs were amazing. Fiona was the most obsessed, spending as much time in the water as she could. The first day presented a bit of a learning curve: fitting one's mask, learning to clear a snorkel, putting fins on at the right moment, and managing to get into the water from rocks with waves breaking across them. The surf was low (relatively speaking) during our visit, but for people who rarely deal with waves of more than a few inches on their home lake, even 1-metre swells were intimidating when they were bashing across rocks and fish and other unknown marine obstacles.

Boogie-boarding at sunset

But when that undersea world opened up, with its incredible variety of friendly, brightly-coloured fish, the tide, so to speak, turned. The first day was fun but challenging. By Day 2, it was nothing but fun. We saw an amazing variety of boxfish, tangs, surgeonfish, iridescent parrotfish, butterfly fish, trumpetfish and moorish idols. We had bought a little aqua-pac so that we could use a point-and-shoot camera underwater. Unfortunately the bright light of the water reflections prevented us from being able to see anything much in the LED view screen so photos were shot pretty much blindly. I had been madly entering GoPro Camera sweepstakes for a month before, but had failed to come up a winner. Here's the video we could have shot at the beach we visited the last two day if we'd had one.

Gecko friends

The weather was lovely. Overcast for at least part of most days, and downright rainy for an occasional morning, about 75 degrees on average, yet with enough sun to risk burns if we weren't careful. I managed to run a couple of times without dying in the heat. We spent time at the pebble beach playing in the surf. We got creative weaving palm leaves. We encouraged geckos to wander up our arms. We floated on the ocean at sunset. Noah discovered that if he could get past the crashing waves safely, once floating his foot was quite happy in the ocean.

We made a stop one day at Pu'uhonua O Honaunau, the Place of Refuge. There we saw sea turtles, native carvings and structures, artisans at work and a pretty cool outrigger canoe in the process of restoration. We liked the market in Captain Cook, where we were able to stock up on mangoes, salsa and lilikoi butter. The latter was first discovered in a leftover jar in the fridge of our rental house. It's a glossy bright yellow butter the consistency of smooth peanut butter, made from passion fruit (lilikoi). We came home with one precious 250 ml jar of the stuff. If I ever find passion fruit on sale by the case-lot in Canada, I will certainly be making my own lilikoi butter!

And we kept watching Downton Abbey, a nightly ritual of two episodes, finishing season 3 the night before we left.

The trip home was uneventful. Noah was able to walk on his cast by this point, so we checked his crutches and boarded flights with the masses rather than with the infants and the disabled. We took a different route, stopping at a border town with a "shipping services" business. We had had delivered there a bunch of things that don't ship affordably to Canada, including a big clothes order for Noah which he was thrilled about, and binoculars for Chuck. And more practical things like a replacement motor for the fan in our range hood.

We picked up the dog on the way home. She had been having a holiday of her own, staying in a home-stay type situation down the valley. She'd had some troubles playing nicely with others, as she isn't terribly well socialized to other dogs but seemed happy and healthy. The cat had been subsisting on occasional visits from a friend at home, and was in raptures to see that we had returned. The weather was kind when we returned: we had a couple of days of real spring-like weather and sunshine before we headed back into cooler temperatures and eventually more snow.

Seattle at the MarQueen

 We had chosen to drive to Seattle and fly to Hawai'i from there because we knew not only would it be cheaper, but it would be better not to rely on the small airports closer to home that are subject to up to 30% flight cancellation rates through the winter. But then Chuck's locum booked his flight into Castlegar and it was of course cancelled, so we ended up having to wait around for 8 hours while he flew into an alternate airport, rented a vehicle and drove here.

All of which made for a very late departure, but the kids, Fiona especially, were insistent we leave on Saturday anyway, even if we only got a few miles across the border. Which is about what happened. We got into Washington State, grabbed a very late supper at a really cruddy Chinese place and checked into a room at the nearest chain hotel. All in all things were going really well, though, as no one seemed to be developing appendicitis.

Space Needle reflected in the exterior of the EMP Museum

The next day we had an easy drive to Seattle. Through the Columbia River gorge, past the wind farms, over the Snoqualamie Pass and into urbania. We stayed at a neat hotel in the heart of Seattle Center in a heritage building. The MarQueen was built in 1914 as a training centre and boarding house for Ford metalworkers, most previously working as blacksmiths. The rooms were all suites, so we had a bedroom, sitting room and kitchen all nicely appointed with period decor (and about the same price as a nice hotel room in Castlegar!) and a real feeling of being back in the past. There was room for everyone, with a special bed-sitting area for the gimpy boy who had broken three bones in his foot a week earlier and was on crutches with an air-cast and not wanting to do much walking around and sight-seeing. A hundred years old or not the MarQueen had wifi and that kept him happy.

We spent a day and a half in Seattle. We hit up some neat ethnic restaurants for meals, explored Seattle Centre, spent a day at the EMP Museum viewing the Icons of Science Fiction and History of Video Games exhibits, cruised the monorail, peeked into Pike's Place, did a bit of shopping, and then, pre-bedtime, mainlined Downton Abbey episodes. 

Spice jars

I found some pigment water-based chalkboard markers. They handle like traditional marker felts, but produce brilliant opaque colour on black. In this case, I've used baby food jars with lids spray-painted matte black. They don't smudge, but can be washed off with water and a soft cloth.

We have a huge drawer of spices in baby food jars, but their paper labels are now greasy and all the same yellowy-white colour, so we always have trouble finding the right jars. Alphabetizing the drawer was not a sustainable strategy.

So this is the new approach. I think colour-coding the lettering according to the item contained within will help. Herbs will be green, mustardy and gingery things ochre yellow, curry and turmeric orange, darker spicy things brown, salt and garlic powder white.

I love these chalkboard markers. If I were a teenager all over again I would teach myself hand lettering and drawing with these implements and contract out my skills as a café board artist. I think it would be the perfect part-time college job.

Cellular decay, v.2

It was over five years ago that we bought a very out-of-date cellphone. It served us well for about three years. Erin took it with her to Edmonton and Montreal, we used it during our monthly Calgary trips, she took it with her when travelling to and about Calgary on her own, the kids occasionally used it while on road trips with Corazon, and we took it on our weekly trips to Nelson so that we had a contact number as we tried to co-ordinate multiple teens and kids and multiple errands in a single trip often complicated by poor weather.

It never worked at home, because although our area got cellphone coverage a couple of years ago, our phone was part of the wrong network and was too old anyway for the relatively up-to-date 3G service. Then the phone died about eighteen months ago. We were no longer travelling to Calgary every month, so there was no urgent need to replace it.

But now I'm teaching two or three afternoons a week at a place with no phone, and Fiona is ever so tired of being dragged along to spend the time in a chilly, furniture-less spare bedroom because I don't feel good leaving her at home without an emergency contact. Our Nelson trips are getting ever more complicated, requiring two different vehicles shuttling and meeting up and allocating 7 different kids. And closer to home, I would say that at least twice a week some of us end up significantly inconvenienced by the kids not being able to reach me. Either I end up driving around town looking for them, or they end up having to leave activities early or (more often) wait around for an hour or two for a ride at a pre-arranged time. So I've been toying with the prospect of getting another cellphone, one that would also work at home. It would be so nice to be able to say "call me when you're done."

At first I thought a basic 3G flip-phone would make sense. But then I began looking at my other electronics and I realized that they're coming up on being 3, 4 and 5 years old. My iPod classic is functioning fine, but Apple hasn't been updating this model since 2009, and if it ever tanks I'll be absolutely dysfunctional. I use it when teaching, for entertainment during all my driving, to help get to sleep, sometimes during running, and for general entertainment. It's probably used for 2-3 hours a day on average which means it's got more than 4000 hours on it. How many more can I count on? My iPad is also working pretty well, but it's an original and won't run the new iOS, so increasingly I'm finding that I can't run new apps. And it doesn't have a camera; I'm really wishing I had an internet device with a camera that I could use as a teaching adjunct. Right now I have to use a camcorder, plug it into my computer, upload the video, edit it, convert the file, upload to YouTube, set privacy, and email a link to my student. Doing this every week, even just for one or two students, is getting old really fast.

So maybe an iPhone is for me. Erin has had one for a couple of years and loves it. Sophie has had an iPod touch for several years and feels the same. The camera on the iPhone 5 would be a dream for my teaching. And it would be so nice for my family to be able to reach me while I'm not at home and neither are they, which is a lot. I predicted that if cell service ever came to our little town we would probably fall down the slippery slope into reliance on a cellphone for daily life. We've held out for two and a half years but I feel the pull of gravity.

The winter outdoors

The last few weeks have been perfect outdoor recreation weather, and we're taking full advantage of it, especially on skis. Fiona has discovered XC skiing this year, and she's quite a natural at it. She and I have been going out at least a couple of times a week together, exploring various trails in the area. There's a lot of trail-grooming that has begun taking place in recent years, which is nice for me on my whippy narrow track skis. My equipment is 25 years old but holding up fairly well.

It's been fairly cold for our area for much of the past couple of weeks (minus 10 or 12 Celsius) but the sun has peeked out even on the coldest days. That makes all the difference. 

The cross-country trails in Hills afford lovely scenery.

Fiona has joined the Jackrabbits program. Her classmates have been XC skiing for two or three years, but she's keeping up pretty well for a noob.

The snow is so delicious! Here ground hoar has formed at night on sun-warmed hillocks. In the high country, on steep slopes, this will create a serious avalanche risk, but down on the XC flats it's just beautiful.

Homeschoolers are able to join the school ski program. This gives them free skiing and free lessons three Wednesdays in January. There's a nice cluster of homeschooled girls a little younger than Fiona, at a similar skiing level. They get along with the school kids really well too, but have a special chemistry all their own.

Fiona is getting braver and more capable on downhill skis. We don't ski much each year, but this is her third year, and her skills are building. 

I think we're doing really well for physical activity this winter. I'm hardly running at all, I confess: I'd love to be squeezing in three runs every week and it's not quite happening, but that's because I'm doing so much skiing with the kids, Fiona especially. Sophie and Noah are both in the (fairly intense) Fitness program at school, and Sophie has been doing dance and volleyball and PE as well. Noah will be adding Outdoor Education in semester 2, which begins shortly. And Fiona? This week she had gymnastics on Tuesday, downhill skiing all day Wednesday, an hour in the gym on Wednesday evening, PE at school on Thursday, XC skiing for an hour and a half on Friday, plus 90 minutes of swimming at the hot springs the same day, tomorrow she has Jackrabbits, and Sunday she'll likely ski downhill again. It feels wonderful to be getting outside so much in the depths of winter.

Having the right clothing makes all the difference. Really warm gloves, Smartwool socks, goggles, seam-sealed waterproof breathable insulated jackets and pants, the right footwear, polypro as a base layer of clothing, warm hats and helmets. Our equipment is all borrowed or rented, but the clothing is good stuff we spent money on. Comfortable kids are happy outdoor kids.

Bob

It was the morning before I had to leave for Kelowna to pick up Erin. Noah, Fiona and Sophie had to be got up, the lunches had to be made, everyone had to be fed, coffee had to be made and drunk, suitcases had to be packed for Fiona and me for the overnight, art class supplies and sewing machine had to be readied for the morning's class. In other words, it was the usual chaos plus a bit more. And of course the chicken feed and water had to be topped up before I left. Ten minutes before we all had to depart, I ran out to water the chickens, and saw something leap up towards the fenced roof of the outdoor chicken run.

And there he was: this guy. About twice the size of a house cat, meaty and substantial with strength and claws and attitude to match. He was trapped there, startled by my presence. I couldn't see how he'd gotten in, but getting out wasn't proving to be easy.

I saw no blood or feathers around, and the chickens usually stay inside the coop where it's warmer, so I wondered if he had maybe just arrived. Perhaps the chickens were still alive, cowering inside. Regardless, I wanted to get him out. I cracked the gate to the outdoor chicken run, just wide enough to admit a camera lens, and took this photo. He growled, hissed and growled some more.

I cracked the gate a little wider and then went around to the far side of the coop, prodding him from behind with a long stick in an effort to encourage him to leave through the gap I'd left him in the gate. He was spitting mad and didn't want to move. But finally he made a grand leap and ran for it: straight through the little chicken door and into the coop.

I suppose I wasn't thinking entirely sensibly. I was only thinking of the poor chickens that he might be about to kill. So I ran around to the coop door and quickly opened it, peering into the relative dark, hoping that my appearance would scare him out the little flap-door at the back by which he had come in.

The image was like a split-second landscape revealed by a flash of lightning. I saw, and I slammed the door shut, only really understanding what I had seen after the door was closed. I had seen chicken carcasses: it was already all over for our rooster and four hens who had been faithfully contributing lovely blue-green-shelled eggs to our pantry for a year and a half. But I had also seen the cat, a mere 14 inches from my face, sitting in the nesting box closest to the door, growling his horrid growl, crouched upon his deadly claws.

We now had two minutes until we had to leave for school/art class/Kelowna. Like any reasonable person would, I spent that two minutes uploading the photo to Facebook (thereby alerting Chuck) and then simply drove away, trusting that the cat would eventually leave by the open gate. Which it seems he did.

We dealt with the chicken carcasses another day. I suppose we'll be back to raising new chicks this spring.

Fear and locked doors

Dear Ms. School District Superintendant

I'm writing to express my distaste for the recent board-level changes in school security policy. 

I chose to raise my children in this area in large part because I wanted them to grow up in an environment free of pervasive media-drive fear. Not free of risk, of course: none of us can ever live entirely free of risk. But I wanted them to grow up in an environment uncontaminated by the sort of fear and distrust that is rampant in larger centres and other countries. I wanted my children to believe that the world is by and large a good place filled with good people. I wanted them to learn to keep risk in perspective. 

[Our community] and [our K-12 public school] seemed to provide that kind of environment. The school and the community are friendly, open and trusting. Not to the point of stupidity, but they provide a balanced openness and acceptance. We have not fallen prey here to a paranoid distrust of each other or of strangers. Children in our area who are asked for directions by tourists respond helpfully rather than cowering in fear. The school has had an atmosphere of welcome acceptance. School staff have worked hard to build connections between school and community, between living and learning, between the natural world and the people living within it. Children attending school have felt part of a school community that encompasses the larger world, rather than held in an institutional community turned inwards, insulated and protected from the larger world. 

The new security policy strikes at the heart of this openness. It creates an atmosphere that draws a firm line between the scary outside world and the supposed safety of school. It is also a terribly unscientific interpretation of risk. Considering that schools are supposed to be helping children learn to critically examine and interpret information, this sets a very poor example. The risk of a Canadian school student dying in a motor vehicle accident on the way to or from school is hundreds of times higher than the risk of dying in a school shooting. Why are we letting a media frenzy relating to an incident in a different country with a radically different health care system and firearms law dictate which doors we can walk through?

If the school district is truly concerned about reducing the risk of school shootings from negligible to even-more-negligible, they should consider the factors that are commonly cited by experts as motivating such gunmen. School shooters tend to be isolated loners who are fearful and disempowered, and they tend to take out their anger on institutions where they perceive their isolation and disempowerment to have begun. Surely it is no stretch to see that a school lockdown policy -- which inhibits the free interaction between school and community, which symbolizes the isolation of students from the wider world and which restricts student movement and location -- will tend over the long run to increase the likelihood of disturbed individuals choosing that school as a target. It is no mystery why US rates of school shootings continue to rise as schools get more and more controlling and "secure." Such policies are dehumanizing. They put up barriers. They isolate. All factors that play into the disturbed thought patterns of future potential mass-murderers.

For goodness sake, let's keep risk in perspective. The risk of a school shooting here in our corner of rural BC is virtually nil. The risk of choking on a piece of food at a school lunch or dropping dead of cardiac arrest on the soccer field is higher. We're not rushing around banning team sports or grapes. Why is the school district buying into media-driven fear, and in doing so eroding healthy attitudes towards community and the wider world, the sort of healthy attitudes that are protective against violence? I hope that the recent directive was a misguided attempt to comfort families by being seen to be doing something in light of the media hype surrounding a shooting in a nation very different from ours, and that upon realizing that parents do not need or want this sort of "comfort" the administration will revise the policy.

I urge you to rescind the current directive so that the wonderful healthy openness between students, families, school staff and communities can be preserved. Barriers build fear and resentment and reduce student security both real and perceived. A policy of openness serves our students, and their security, best.

Sincerely,

etc.

Matcha White Chocolate Truffles

Matcha White Chocolate Truffles

1 lb. good white chocolate
1/2 cup butter
2/3 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup matcha powder

~ 1 lb. white chocolate chips or buttons for dipping

Melt and stir together the first four ingredients. Chill for several hours.

Roll into 1 tsp. balls, dip in melted plain white chocolate. Store in airtight containers in a cool location, well away from dog.

Note: Sophie describes the above recipe as Matcha Truffles: Extreme Edition. Unless you really love green tea, you might want to tone this down. Start with a couple of tablespoons of matcha powder and work up from there to taste. We decided that wrapping a bit of the truffle ganache around a macadamia nut balances the flavour beautifully, so that the extreme mix works well.

Moot court

Our workshops exploring aspects of law and government have continued since last spring and concluded this week with a moot court. We've made a special trip to Nelson for each one, and even though we do far too much driving at the best of times, it's been worth it.

Our Lawyer Mentor has employed an consistent and unique theatrical style which the kids have played along with happily. He reads a narration of the events of our fictional country aloud. As he does so he non-verbally appoints certain kids to certain roles. "The head of security .... [grabbing a police hat and dropping it on the head of a likely-looking 9-year-old, then gesturing for her to come onto the rug which is serving as the centre of the theatre space] .... went to the king [she walks to where the king is standing] and said 'I will make sure your laws are followed!' [nodding for her to repeat this line, which she does]," And so on, with the story evolving at each session.

Here's how the story of our country has evolved:

In the beginning there were no rules. The people were free to do whatever they wanted. Everything was wonderful. There were parties with lots of singing, people rode horses all over the country and built wonderful houses. Except that people who wanted to sing would sometimes sing all night when others wanted to sleep. People who wanted to ride horses would sometimes ride them through fields where farmers were tending their rows of carrots. Big strong people who wanted nice houses would sometimes just take them away from smaller people.

While it was nice to be able to do what you wanted, some rules were needed to help keep order. A lady  decided she would make rules to control the chaos and she came to be called Queen Henrietta. She made laws about not riding horses through carrot gardens, and about not singing all night when people wanted to sleep. But she also made laws that said the people had to give her presents all the time. She became very powerful and rich, and the people, who disagreed with some of her laws, were not very happy.

Her evil nephew Prince Henry saw that the people were unhappy. He saw that the Queen was very rich. He decided that with the help of some of the people he could get rid of Queen Henrietta. And so he did. He told the people that he would help them be in charge of their own country, so they agreed to sneak into Queen Henrietta's castle at night very quietly and then suddenly yell "Boo!" This frightened her so badly that she ran away. Now Prince Henry told the people that they could vote to choose someone to make all the laws. But he got his friends to give all the people O'Henry candy bars so that they would vote for him. Once he was elected, he began to make laws to keep himself in power.

The new laws meant that the people had very little freedom. If they disagreed with Henry they were arrested by his security force. There were no parties allowed, no singing, not even any talking a lot of the time.

Finally the little people sneaked up on Henry and scared him away with a big "Boo!"

They chose a nice guy to be the head of the country and called him King Fair. King Fair agreed to make only the laws that the House of Laws told him to make. The House of Laws was made up of one person chosen from each family. They talked together and then decided what laws King Fair would pass. "So it shall be passed," King Fair replied every time the people from the House of Laws told him about a new law they wanted. If it seemed like laws were broken, the police would arrest people. The court would listen to evidence and decide if they were guilty or innocent.

The country also created a list of basic rights and freedoms that should not be interfered with. And so the court also kept an eye on the House of Laws. If they made any laws that interfered with those basic rights and freedoms, he would strike down the law. And the government worked very well for several years.

But rumours began surfacing that the Evil Lord Voldesnort was planning to take the country over with the help of collaborators. So the government took the unusual step of making a far-reaching security law. Among other things the Security Act mandated the installation of wireless video surveillance cameras in every living room in the kingdom. The Brown Family refused to allow the camera to be installed. They were arrested and charges brought against them.

And so we ended up in a provincial supreme courtroom last Friday. In all honesty the defence lawyers didn't do nearly as good a job as the prosecution. While the unconstitutionality of the security act was clear-cut in most people's minds, the defence didn't do a great job of demonstrating this in court. But in the end the judge found for the accused and the Browns were set free.

Fiona had the role of a witness for the defence. She was Miss Matters, an expert on the health and safety issues pertaining to microwave radiation. She read a prepared statement and was examined by counsel for the defence and then cross-examined by the prosecution. She wore and then presented to the bench Exhibit C, a tinfoil hat used by those concerned about the health effect of microwaves.

I'm so thrilled that we've had this opportunity. It has spawned some amazing discussions afterwards as well. It has been the nidus of broad, far-reaching exploration of the philosophy and practice of law and government.

Between the subjects

One of the things I love about homeschooling is the way the boundaries between subjects don't need to exist at all. I know that many schools pride themselves on making "cross-curricular connections," but those are more like threads connecting otherwise discrete areas. As homeschoolers we are free to dwell for months in the spaces between the subjects.

This fall has been a case in point for Fiona. She's been learning about ... how does one describe it when it isn't a traditional subject area? ... learning about where math, art and nature overlap.

I think perhaps the thread of discovery that led us into this playground was the stylized form of doodling called zentangles. This was clearly a form of creative precision that appealed to Fiona: the fine lines, the iterations, the patterns and conventions, the interesting figure-ground relationships.

And then, suddenly there was Vi Hart and her quirky doodling in (and about!) math class. Fiona has spent hours watching these videos over and over, experimenting with the tricks and techniques. Hexaflexagons, binary trees, Fibonacci spirals, doodling music, she's loved all of Hart's stuff.

And that brought us to October, when art class began. Last year's classes focused on the alphabet and on place: our community, the natural world we treasure, and letters, and words, and art that combined them all. But this year's series of workshops, wonder of wonders, is about geometric patterns in nature and art.

How perfect for this girl at this moment in her life!

Right from the first class drawing compasses were part of the exercises. Mandalas made with concentric circles. Lines made from circles. Equilateral triangles made from circles. Squares made from circles. Fibonacci spirals made from squares and circles.

As with most homeschoolers' classes, this one is multi-age and multi-level. The instructor is amazing at meeting the needs of barely-5-year-olds, and even some of their younger siblings, as well as challenging the 9- to 11-year-olds.

Fiona is neat to watch socially in the class. She enjoys talking to the adults -- she chats away with the art teacher and the homeschool liaison teacher genuinely and comfortably as if they are good friends, and they afford her the same respect and warmth. She and the 11-year-old are at similar academic levels and are friends from way back so they banter back and forth about science, spelling, vocabulary, music, books and math. She enjoys the company of one lovely girl who is almost exactly her age; they often hang out after class for an afternoon. But her favourite classmate to spend time with is a 6-year-old. And it's not a doting babysitter-like arrangement. She doesn't play with this kid because she thinks she's cute or because she enjoys being a leader who is bigger and older and more capable. She plays with her simply because they're really good friends. She really really likes J. as a person.

Art class is outdoors sometimes too. We walk to and from the lakeshore, or along the creek, or along the streets of the quiet neighbourhoods near the school. The kids enjoy the less structured time, the physical outlet of getting themselves somewhere on their own two feet and the chance to socialize. Along the way they're learning to see the patterns in nature, collecting specimens and samples, building ephemeral art.

I love ephemeral art. We have a friend living nearby who makes a living at sand and snow sculpture. I admit to at first thinking it was kind of gimmicky, a sort of festival competition endeavour designed to pull in tourists and make a spectacle. But I see it differently now that I've watched his work evolve, and seen Andy Goldsworthy's work, and grown older and more comfortable with impermanence myself. For kids, I think ephemeral art lowers the stakes: there's no need to strive for perfection if you know it will wither or blow away. Just enjoy the process, and appreciate your work for as long as it lasts, and that's all. What wonderful therapy for perfectionists!

I was mystified a year or so ago when Fiona announced that architecture is something she could see herself doing as a career. Mystified because she had never expressed much interest in building toys like Lego or Knex. Mystified because she had never been rapt over cranes or framing or cement trucks as I assumed budding little architects would be. But she loves the design aspect of architecture, especially spare, clean contemporary architecture. She doesn't see many clean modern lines in our little hewn-log corner of the world, but she loves images of the sexy towers in Dubai, and of achingly spare glass-and-rice-paper rooms in Kyoto apartments.

Further, she has fallen in love with contemporary design. An IKEA catalogue was her gateway drug. Now she's browsing design blogs and awards. Who knows where it will all go. At this point I'm avoiding labelling and categorizing her interests as much as I can. Although a certain amount of labelling is helpful to her in finding resources and talking about her interests, I think it is wonderful the way she is comfortable inhabiting the overlapping space shared between various subjects.

Fall bits

Where has October gone? Where has my blogging mojo gone? My additional teaching load, and all the juggling of travel and activities by Noah and Sophie, is taking a toll.

Fall was amazing until the rain finally caught up with us. The leaves were a good two weeks later to start turning, and then when they did it was in a flash of gold glory. Still it was sunny. And (relatively) warm. 

Now it's been raining for a couple of weeks. And cold, and grey, and dark. The wood stove is working all the time and we're inside a lot more. 

Fiona has been doing a lot of neat art and math. The topo map project (previously mentioned) but also a lot of Vi-Hart-inspired doodling, zentangle style art, and circle-geometry stuff. The art classes that were offered last year to homeschoolers are underway again, and this year's focus is mathematics and patterns in art, which is just a perfect fit for Fiona's current enthusiasms. An art class where the vocabulary frequently includes words like radius, concentric, tetrahedron, equilateral, rotation and intersection? Right up her alley! They're currently working on making mandalas, using various paint techniques, geometry with compasses and straight-edges, and carved print blocks. 

A last few tidbits, clockwise as above. 

We've been doing some organized running clinics. Fiona attended the first one and enjoyed it. I'm going to continue doing some regular Sunday clinics in a neighbouring village. I am trying to work up interest in an ongoing local running group, so I've put some time and energy into hiring a clinician, setting up an email loop, and doing publicity.

My knitting bug has hit again, with the stoking of the wood stove. The only local yarn shop (90 minutes away) closed last spring, so I shall have to find a good on-line source for yarn. It's a shame not to be able to see colours and touch hanks in person though. 

My networking with other runners and cyclists has made me keen to get to know even more of the local wilderness. Last weekend I stumbled on a fabulous trail that I had never heard about. A well-kept secret, I suppose. It's low-elevation, easily accessible, rolling in profile, quite and stunningly beautiful ... yet very close by. How could I not have known? I've biked it and run it and loved it both ways. It's made me hungry to truly and thoroughly get to know the backcountry around here. In the last couple of years I've got a good handle on the trails between my area and town. But that's just a wee portion of what's out there. I want to get back into backcountry hiking and camping too.

Fiona dressed up for Hallowe'en as No Face from the Studio Ghibli anime movie Spirited Away. An easy and warm costume for a typically cold and wet Hallowe'en.

The Law and Government classes are drawing to a close. These fun theatrical classes about the evolution and structure of our constitutional monarchical government system have continued sporadically throughout the summer and into the fall. Fiona has continued her role as Head of the Executive branch of government, but she now has a new role as Miss Matter, a witness for the defence in the case of against Mr. and Mrs. Brown, who have refused the installation in their living room of a video surveillance camera according to Section 10 of the Kingdom Security Act designed to protect against the rumoured terrorist plans of Evil Lord Voldesnort. The mock trial is scheduled for the Nelson Courthouse in a couple of weeks.