In this pose, he's an average teenage boy, except for two things: he's just shy of five years old and today he starts un-kindergarten.
It's the new school year and while Benny's been sleeping this morning, many of his old babyhood friends have already eaten breakfast, donned their shining new backpacks and shoes, and trooped off toward their very first day of kindergarten.
Benny knows the word kindergarten. He's read about kids going to such a place in his books, many of which he insists on reading on his own these days. But he hasn't yet asked if he will be going to kindergarten. My partner, Brad, and I haven't really mentioned that he wont be.
Benny's never heard of un-kindergarten though. That's because I made up the term last night.
We were out with friends having drinks. Benny was with us, as usual. We'd hit that lull time around nine o'clock, post happy hour and pre-late night revelers when New York City bartenders don't seem to mind five-year-olds playing with cars and sipping cranberry juice near the bar.
Our friends have no kids, but were curious about our decision not to send Benny to school. They're aware enough to know that homeschooling is no longer (and probably never was) just a bunch of Bible-thumping Seventh Day Adventists who teach their kids at home in order to avoid the heathens at public school. Our friends also understand that parents homeschool their kids in different ways and for different reasons.
Nonetheless, when I used the term "unschooling," they needed an explanation.
"There's no good soundbite to describe it," I said, "just as there's no good soundbite to describe school. But generally speaking, unschoolers don't send their kids to regular school and avoid teaching by curriculum. You won't find them at the kitchen table every morning doing math, then reading, then geography."
I went on to explain that unschoolers believe in letting a kid's curiosity, interests and natural hunger for knowledge guide their learning.
"So are you unschoolers, then?" Julie, our friend, asked.
Brad and I exchanged glances then gave vague yes/no head waggles.
For page two, click here.
