Better than School. Film School.

My children were homeschooled, a misnomer, at best. I prefer to say I never sent my children to school. Sure, they did school stuff - bunches of classes here and there over the years - college classes for Julia at 15, cooking classes and adult baking for Jerzy as a 12-year-old, that sort of thing. Julia took herself off to boarding school for a year in 11th grade, returning to college classes for her senior year at home, before going away to "real" college on the other side of the country. But the actual schoolwork was secondary. I'll try to be brief, resisting my urge to talk about our walks together; the books we read and assignments we worked on; friends that came and stayed and played; travels; plans made and problems solved; applications, jobs, successes and failures; crazy pick-up softball in the rain; soccer; crossword puzzles; Family Guy and South Park and Singing in the Rain and White Christmas; the entire weekend of foreign films, Babette's Feast, with me reading the subtitles aloud; talking; sharing; caring. Suffice it to say, we know one another well. We love one another even more.

Along comes David Gilmour with his memoir, The Film Club, about his two years watching movies with his son in lieu of school. Here's a video. I can't wait to get the book.