Long Past Stopping Read Online Free PDF

we always fell for it. We were immediately wide-awake, jumping up and down on our beds with excitement. This was what we lived for. By the time other seven-year-olds were getting up to go to school, we would be in an airplane flying to Santa Fe.
    â€œAll right then. The plane is leaving in two hours, so let’s pack up quick.” Kyle and I threw some clothes in a couple of duffel bags, and a few minutes later, we were ready to go.
    We flew into Albuquerque, rented a car, and drove up to Santa Fe. I still didn’t have a clue what we were doing there. I’m not sure if it even occurred to me to ask. As far as I knew, my mom had some sort of psychology workshop out here and we were just along for the ride. Our drive ended when we pulled into a dirt lot with one cinder-block building andfive trailers scattered over the three-acre property. A sign at the entrance said Santa Fe Community School. A bald guy came out of a trailer and showed us around. Since we were closest to the cinder-block building, he took us there first. The hallway was no more than twenty feet long and separated a classroom that he said we didn’t need to worry about and a cafeteria that would be a good thing to remember since that’s where we would be getting our food. I was confused because he was clearly talking to Kyle and me, and neither of us knew much about psychology, or whatever it was my mom came out here for. We continued our tour around the property, but there really wasn’t a whole lot to see—mostly just dirt. The only other structure not on wheels (unless you counted the outhouses) was some kind of clubhouse that the students built out of scrap wood and old doors. Even though it was barely standing, Ed, the bald guy, was very proud of it.
    â€œYou see, the way it works here is that if we just kind of stay out of it, the kids come up with these kinds of incredible projects on their own, and they have a much more meaningful experience that way than if they do something just because an adult tells them to,” Ed was saying, this time to my mom, which was a relief.
    â€œLikewise,” he continued, “we have the same attitude about the kids getting into trouble. For example, if all we do is lay down rules and regulations—well, you’re a parent, you know how smart kids can be—the kids don’t get to experience the consequences of right and wrong actions for themselves. They either see the rules as arbitrary and rebel against them, or even worse, they might just do what they’re told without questioning what’s behind it. Either way, they don’t get to experience that a wrong action can lead to negative consequences, and vice versa. The best way for a kid to learn is through experience.”
    My mom was beaming. “You really can’t believe how wonderful this is. I mean, you just said it. Kids learn through experience, not memorizing state capitals. I’ve always raised my kids like that. You know, when Oran was around three he would just start climbing around on everything, and, instead of telling him to get down or shame him for it, I would just lay down a few pillows and let him figure it out for himself. I mean, he’s either going to fall and not want to go up there again or he’s going to learn to be more careful next time. If I yell at him, all he learns to be afraid of is me.”
    â€œAnd that’s exactly how we approach the educational process here,” Ed said.
    They kept talking while he showed us the water pump and theouthouses. I had rarely seen my mom interact with someone so enthusiastically. Eventually, he led us to the only tree on the whole property and a trampoline just lying flat on the ground next to it. Trampolines were one of the few things that brought out something resembling visible excitement in me, and I was extremely disappointed that it wasn’t set up.
    â€œYou want to jump on it?” Ed said to me. “Go