Watching TV, he snoozes. Washing the dishes, I sniff. Okay might be good enough for him, but not for me. Our children's only childhood is at stake: immediate action is imperative.

        Mothers' Morning Out at the Unitarian Church reads and discusses a book written by A.S. Neill, headmaster of Summerhill, a radical boarding school in England. Competition is shunned there; individuality is prized. Summerhill offers itself as a free school, a democratic learning community where students are free to blossom to the fullest of their individual potential. They go to class or not, free to do as they please as long as they don't interfere with the rights of others doing what they please.
        Freedom! I'm stunned. Exactly what I want for my three!
        But not free in the dollar sense — times three, tuition would be astronomical. Worse, money aside, I am jarred by the image of me and Will rattling around our house, alone except for occasional vacations when the kids dash in and then out like strangers, yakking about people and experiences excluding us.
        The way things are now I am paramount in their lives. I want to go on being as central to their existence as they are to mine. That said, I recognize the public school system is ruinous, making my carefree sunny children miserable as their teachers stampede them through material, trampling their newly developing shoots of wonder and imagery.
        I must do something, but what?

        Night is coming on. It's quiet out here on the porch swing and there is enough light left to read by. TV and kids' voices fade from within the house; I am lost rereading Neill's book when a mock sonorous voice booms: “DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE?” I jump; yelp.
        “Didn't mean to scare you.” Todd Emmons drops beside me, one arm along the back of the agitated swing. “Marsha says I better collect Garth before you start charging rent.”

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