August 27, 2001
Back to Basics
by Joshua Carden
I realized after looking at several past columns that I haven't written a pure home school column in quite a while. That's probably bad, since this is the "Homeschool Channel" of Crosswalk.com. I mean, I DID home school for a long time and I DO have lots of stories from my home schooling days. Unfortunately, when this column was birthed in the mind of then-channel-editor Rich Shipe, it was conceived to be a humor column. Also unfortunately, that drastically cuts down on the statistical number of possible column topics, unless I talk about other people. I confess that out of desperation, I have cheated on occasion by taking stories in my life that are simply humorous but not technically home school-related. I rationalized this by saying that I am a former home schooler, therefore the stories are home school stories. Perhaps I have been in law school too long. But in an effort to recapture some of the originality of this column's purpose, I am setting forth an allegedly humorous column (translated: "I think it's funny.") from my home schooling days.
For the sake of the uninitiated who may be wondering: (All together now) Home schoolers DO have social lives. Aside from music lessons, neighbors, sports, etc., our local home school organization often took "field trips" that were conducive both to education and to social interaction. Take that, all you critics of home schooling! I'm incredibly well-adjusted - just ask my therapist!
Anyway, the greatest thing about home school field trips was that we could go at anytime of the day we wanted to go! We could avoid traffic jams, long lines, and disgruntled school bus drivers. After the planned activity, we would occasionally go to the city park and eat picnic lunches and play on the playground. (See that, critics? We even had RECESS!) Ahh, those were the days!
Some of the best field trips we took as a group start coming to my mind: We went to Mrs. Baird's Bakery - absolutely the BEST fresh bread in the area. Plus we got free samples. We went to a special candy manufacturer for a tour. More free samples. We went fossil hunting on a construction site with a Christian geologist. I got a snail fossil that is the size of a slightly oblong golf ball! (I've still got it somewhere. Probably sitting next to the miniature wooden shoes I got from Holland.) We would go to the zoo and make faces at the monkeys. We went to the local weather station and learned about meteorology. And of course, we would go ice skating and sometimes roller skating. Roller skating got scratched off the list as soon as we all discovered that the infamous "Hokey Pokey" song was going to be a divisive issue. I will say no more about that. If you know the song and you know home schoolers, you know what I'm talking about. My brother Jason and I didn't really miss it, mainly because neither of us ever learned how to stop while roller skating. My patented method was to slam into the wall!
But with all the fond memories of wonderful field trips, one in particular comes to mind. Mainly because it was a disaster. WARNING: THE REST OF THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT REFERENCES TO DEAD CHICKENS. One mom (possibly mine, although I really don't remember) suggested that we visit the local chicken egg production farm. The idea met with general approval and a date was set. So on Friday (our designated field trip day) we all piled into the vans and station wagons and headed for the country. Of course, for the Cardens, it was "back to the country" since that's where we lived. Anyway, we should have known something was up as we exited the vehicles. An indescribable odor assailed our nostrils. I can only say that for the first time in my young life, I was glad we hadn't eaten yet!
What happened next was the most awful field trip experience we had as a group! As we began the tour, our guide led us down this wooden platform that ran the length of the first barn. There were thousands of chickens crammed into elevated cages that looked like shipping crates instead of living quarters. It was like the Hanoi Hilton of chicken farms. There were dead chickens in the cages, on the ground, and some on the platform that we had to step over. The eggs rolled down little ramps from the cages and onto a conveyor belt. The ones that didn't make it were rotting on the ground. The guide was somehow able to give us an informative tour as we staggered through the barn. At least I think it was informative. My brother Jason and I were busy playing "Who Can Count the Most Dead Chickens" on our way through the barn.
The torture finally ended and we left. Green around the gills, we headed for the park to get some fresh air. Needless to say, there was a decided lack of interest in the egg salad sandwiches that particular trip. I don't think there were any animal-related field trips planned for quite a while after that. Even the Hokey Pokey would have been welcome after the chicken experience! In retrospect, I'm surprised that an army of home school moms didn't rise up and shut down that farm. I'm sure they would have had time if they had put us all in school or day care. I'm glad they didn't.
But hey, that was just one bad eggsperience. No need to call CPS. It did harden the shell on my resolve to never be a chicken farmer. Well, I've kept you cooped up here long enough. No more chicken yolks, er, jokes. Have a great beak, I mean, week. I gotta get going - after all, the early bird gets the worm.