Making Wrong’s Write

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but since you’re here…” a teacher haltingly slipped into a conversation with Tracey.

Now we’re back to living in the burbs the ‘real’ teachers are starting to correct our homeschooling efforts.

Actually, let’s say enhance our efforts.

Or even better, compliment.

“Yes?” Tracey steeled herself and encouraged the teacher to go on.

We’ve been on the receiving end of some hilariously backhanded encouragements this first week of school. Phrases like, “it won’t take her long to catch up,” and “we’ve seen improvements already,” make it plainly clear we’ve made the right move re-enrolling our troop for a quick six month update before we take off again.

Not, as I’ve been trying to explain to my fretting wife, that I think we’ve done horribly: The teachers have just been asking the wrong questions.

If, for example, they asked about the early days of colonial occupation in Australia they’d probably be very impressed with their knowledge about Port Arthur and Sovereign Hill.

If they asked about fossicking for opals or sapphires, or panning for gold, my lot can tell you categorically it’s dirty, exhausting and frustratingly work with, despite the stories the guides tell you about people striking it rich, a distinct lack of Nintendo Switches at the end of a day for all your efforts.

My point is, if they ask about sink holes, volcanoes, penguin and seal colonies or any of the stuff we did, I’m sure they’ll be a little more impressed than if they check, for example, spelling.

“It’s just,” the teacher went on hesitantly, “dining isn’t spelt with two n’s.”

“Oh,” said Tracey, a little taken aback at such an easy one to fix. A page of lines should do it. “Okay.”

The teacher even gave her the spiel to say to explain why dinning is wrong.

“You see, dining is derived from the word dine, not dinner. I think that’s the confusion. The e on the end of dine makes it the long i sound, not the short one, like you want in dinner. See? Dine. Dining.”

“No worries. We’ll get straight onto it,” Tracey said. There was just one more thing she needed to know. “Which kid?”

The teacher smiled.

“Bruce.”

Apparently I’ve been writing it wrong for years and every time it’s been like a tying another knot in her teacher heartstrings. It’s possible there may be others. And by possible I mean there are lots and lots of others. Spelling has never been my strong point and spell check just means I spell the wrong word write.
Taking advantage of being home to start a little herb garden
Miss11 was as happy about having gloves as the idea of planting stuff

Some lavender bushes under the windows for colour and scent. We bought a purple, white and a pink. There’s a blue as well if I can remove those spiky hurty plants on the other side of the girls

Also starting up our worm farms again. We might need another one or two because one meal of mash and veggies scraps fed a whole tray

Parsley. Dill. Basil. Mint. Coriander. One of the things I’ve loved about lots of CP’s and show grounds are the herb gardens so many tend and encourage travellers to use
Worms aren’t as instantly loveable as, say, lambs

Our exisiting mulberry trees look like they’re about to burst into life.
Removing the side fence with a view to putting our bus in the back yard while we work on it
Damn thing was like an iceberg with most of it under the surface. Also, in concrete. Thankfully, Miss14 helped me dig.

Raising a family on little more than laughs

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