The middle, homeschool, paid subs, etc.
Et Cetera #03
1.
Last year, in a quirk of fate, I celebrated a birthday that perfectly straddled generations. Twenty days before, I had celebrated my daughter’s birth; twenty days later, I would celebrate my father’s seventieth. Like an astrological phenomenon, I passed through the exact same temporo-parental moment my father did when I was born.
That birthday didn’t precipitate a midlife crisis — I’m saving that for my fortieth — but it brought into focus a sense of vertigo I had been experiencing. Right after finding a trail and fixed my attitude, I stalled and went into an authorial tailspin. There were practical headwinds — babies prefer food and play over essays on dbt, for example — but I think the main reason was that the line separating the two halves of life came sharply into view.
Today, I find myself in much the same spot as a year ago, but with a refreshed understanding of my limits, particularly of the hustle-bro variety. Habits and priorities are primary now. That may sound a little boring, but I am a little boring. I’m fine with that.
2.
For years, when people asked if I liked writing, I replied, “I hate writing, but I love having written”.
It wasn’t fully a lie, because I struggle with a jerk of an internal editor and shiny object syndrome. Mostly, though, it was a hedge: if I didn’t really enjoy writing, I wouldn’t regret not doing it. It wouldn’t demand anything of me. With four kids, I feel plenty in demand already.
But now, I see that I don’t have time to segment writing into “process” and “product” and pick favorites. It’s neither a useful distinction, or a true one. Whether it’s an essay or a book, writing is a way of conversing with the world. It’s an outcome of being present and engaging.
There’s a craft to it, of course, but when I find myself writing, I’m using it as a way to navigate the world, as a parent or a professional or simply a person. It summons ideas that were lingering below the surface and just needed a bit of stirring. It helps me to breathe.
I wrote a lot this past year, more than I’ve ever written before. I have a drawer of Substack drafts, a middle-grade book manuscript, a forthcoming short story, family letters, nighttime stories, Christmas cards. And with every new project, I enjoy it more — especially the process.
3.
Even though it’s been inactive, Data, People, Etc. has not been far from my mind.
The challenge, though, has been to figure out its purpose, other than a place to land random writing. Random writing comes from random thinking, and random thinking has a challenge: it doesn’t build momentum.1
To close the gap, I believe I need to publish regularly. From what I can see of others, regular publishing means weekly publishing. Weekly publishing is a hard thing, and I have a ton of respect for folks who pull it off while maintaining the quality bar. (And a day job.)
I see two ways to write quality posts. For creative work, you spend time testing ideas via the writing process, so that the final result is strong. For other formats, you can spend time testing ideas via experience, and use writing as simply a packaging of it. This makes the writing itself more utilitarian, but the product not necessarily worse for it. And potentially, it’s far more efficient for the author. The problem becomes one of experience rather than craft and originality.
Fortunately, the very life changes that forced my absence have handed me a topic I’m enthusiastic and qualified to write about. It rarely leaves my mind these days; in fact, it yells at me for breakfast in the morning, barges into my office during Zoom calls, and runs away from me every night at bedtime.
I’m talking, of course, about children. In particular, the education of children.
Through some good fortune, my wife and I are embarking on a one-year experiment in homeschooling our oldest son (second grade). He’s attended public school for the past two years. He has had great experiences overall, but, over the past eight months, we’ve found ourselves more convicted that we ought to see if we could make a more rigorous, individualized schooling program at work. So we’re doing it.
4.
All of this to say: I’m rebooting Data, People, Etc.
Over the next school year, I plan to publish here regularly.2 During that time, there will be two types of content:
I will continue to publish professional ramblings, book reviews, and essays on children's literature. These will be free.
I will also share regular updates on my family’s homeschooling experiment. I can’t take credit for the schooling itself, but I’m happy to represent it.
Homeschool reflections are certainly not what most of you readers signed up for, and I’ll try to make the initiative as benign as possible for you by triaging these posts in a Homelab section. I am told that you can selectively unsubscribe in that way.
But I hope you do check it out. My wife and I, surprisingly, have real credibility and experience in the art of teaching and the science of learning, and I think I can offer something of real value to parents (or future parents) who want to create a richer learning environment for kids, whether or not you’re homeschooling. I won’t be posting detailed lesson plans or “resources”, per se, but I will be surveying the content and chronicling the journey.
5.
The first Homelab post will be published next Monday as a free post. Future ones will be paywalled; I think this topic is best shared among those with at least latte-levels of interest, and posts will necessarily be somewhat more personal.
If homeschooling is a topic interesting to you, please reach out. I’d love to hear what sorts of content you’d be interested in reading.
Data and education might seem like strange bedfellows, but I’ve never seen it that way. Data professionals specialize in building connections: integrating systems and joining concepts so that groups of people can build shared meaning. Education is the same — a process by which children learn that the world is knowable, that knowing it brings joy, and that joy makes life vibrant.
I do not mean serious writing.
You may not believe me. You may have heard conflicting statements. Don’t believe them. I’m serious about this.