Dear Boundless Families:
Gorgeous weather this Saturday morning, if you love Autumn. The weather has been so nasty it makes me wonder if we orbit a star. I’ve been wearing my winter hat.
None of this deterred the Elders from camping in our meadows last night, carefully sidestepping cow poop to pee in the woods. Apparently, one of these bovine vamps was attracted to the tents and mooed her way into the REM sleeps of your kids. I was expecting the worst when I visited them this morning.
I was shocked to observe bright eyes and unusually sunny dispositions.
But there is some troubling news to report. The kids are exhibiting acute symptoms of HVD. This is not an STD. It’s a mental health condition.
Hyperactive Volleyball Disorder. No mask or vaccine will soften this viral and vindictive menace.
Every second away from the books this group will congregate around the volleyball net, and just have at it. They must have caught the bug in the Salmon Mousse (the first to name the movie quote I just referenced, and you’ll win some Boundless merchandise – no cheating – we’ll know).
The Elders have been swamped with references, allusions, metaphors, persuasion and the art of the debate. To To, their teacher, had to reign them in yesterday because they tend to shout over each other. Wish you all were flies on the wall.
Chess is also a thing. That scoundrel and merciless Lucas cleaned my clock, and I have been licking my wounds ever since. Another student tried to console me by saying, “You lasted the longest of anyone yet.” How generous.
There are a few students whose parents were deeply concerned they would struggle up here. That ain’t happening. The Elders, and the Young-uns for that matter, are a lovely group of human beings. So welcoming, courteous, kind and deeply engaged with each other.
G. tells me she is still in a Covid hangover and finds it weird to be around people. She says this as her legs are strewn across a comfy couch, like she owns that couch, and opts to be in very close proximity to four other kids who are giggling and making her giggle. Call the Children’s Aid.
I also had the pleasure of popping by the Young-uns this morning, my first visit. Most kids will wonder upon first seeing me, who the heck is this old man? But not Tori nor Shoshanna, who stuck out their elbows in a warm Covid greeting. A perfect introduction to a tribe of kids who have found their groove.
Ashley, their teacher, is a past gold medal winner of the Olympic Brilliant Programming competition, and pulls dazzling lesson plans out of her hat as easily as if she is buttering toast. One that struck me was shadow puppeteering, which has emerged as quite the rage. I wonder aloud to her about the relevance of said distraction in an english course.
Like admonishing a toddler, she nips back, “It allows for shy kids to express themselves and they are told to use the medium to define fictional characters.”
I am skeptical, so bring up the matter directly with the kids to be the judge and jury. “Oh ya,” they say, it’s amazing.”
Devlin, however, rolls his eyes. I have found a friend.
They will go on a teensy weensy canoe trip this afternoon and explore how context can define writing. Sounds horrible doesn’t it? The Children’s Aid should be on your speed dial by now.
Those young-uns are sheer unadulterated fun. They are starting to have some swagger, and think they own the place. They live in their pajamas. But now that the sun decided to show up, they might graduate to shorts.
Things are wonderful up here. Thanks for trusting your kids with us.
Steven
