A Day in the Life of an Eight Year Old at Michael House School

Part One

7:30am. It’s breakfast time and we’re sat together at the table. As usual Cassiopeia is wide-eyed and sparky, barely finding moments in her loquacious enthusiasm to munch her cereal. Me? Well, at least one eye is almost open and I am listening, I am. I really am… “mmmm…. Yes Cass … mmmm zzzzz” You must bear in mind that my eight year old has been up since six this morning preparing for her school day and has only just woken me up with a cup of tea.

Cassiopeia is pulling faces into her spoon and singing a song in German about a man who gets up, gets dressed and goes out for a walk with his wife, while I head for the kitchen. I notice her sandwich box full and ready on the side with three very long beautifully finger-knitted colourful threads of wool. What that’s all about I don’t know!

8:00am news: “Today thousands of people are keeping their children off school in protest against SATS tests….” I turn up the volume in interest and pour another coffee.

“Mummy!” Cassiopeia exclaims, “you’re not keeping me off school are you?” with a look on her face to suggest she’d been told chocolate no longer existed. “No darling” I replied. “Some children are staying off school because they are not happy about doing tests”. “Tests?” she said scrunching up her nose still peering into her funny spoon reflection. “What’s ‘tests’? Is it like when you test whether you food is too hot to eat?” I smiled in adoration as we gathered our things to leave, whilst feeling horribly sick at the thought of the thousands of kids that have that word “TEST” stamped on their head, glaring at them every morning as they peer into their spoon.

On the way she checks her bag, “all set!” she says with a sparkle in her eye. “What ya put on your sandwiches today then petal?” I say. “Soft cheeeeese” she replies licking her lips, “and I wanted cucumber on it but I put it in a little separate box though so it didn’t go soggy, I can put it on when I eat it later”. “Ace idea Cass!” I say, thinking to myself, “why on earth have I never thought of that? All those years of soggy sarnies!” She pulls her three carefully made wool bits out of her pocket. “So what’s that all about then?” I ask. “Well I’m playing doggy families with my friends and I’m daddy dog so I have made some special leads for my puppies”. “Oh ofcourse, I should have known!” I say with a giggle.

The bell rings and Cassiopeia’s school day begins. She runs in with the nine other children in her class, forgetting to say goodbye or give her ol’ mum a hug. She’s on a mission!

Now, I have to say I shall struggle to give you a detailed account of her day after this. The reason being that she rarely tells me what she’s been up to because she’s usually too busy focusing on the ‘now’, not what has been or what’s next. Despite been given feedback from her wonderful class teacher that she has in fact become quite a competent reader since beginning to learn her alphabet at the age of seven, all I really know and want to know is that she comes home with muddy hands and grass stained knees, rosy cheeks and a massive smile. Today she happened to burst through the door holding a beautiful crown of flowers she had made for me all by herself at break time; not a group activity controlled by an adult, but purely created through her own will, her independent search for materials and desire to create something beautiful.

Cassiopeia’s Waldorf education since three years old has been so rich and beautiful it’s like trying to explain how watching a sunrise makes you feel. It’s deep and warm and bright. My daughter has learnt all her amazingly independent skills and most importantly who she is and how she fits in her world by simply being allowed the space and time to explore.

During tea Cassiopeia entertains us with a Native American tale she remembered from her lesson, which must have lasted as long as it took me to eat a whole baked potato! Then makes plans of how she is going to finish her knitted piggy in her handwork lesson tomorrow and she can’t wait to be daddy dog again.