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Yes,, Maths is a language.Language is a means of communication. You can communicate via dance, music, words, numbers, light, sound, fire, etc. Whatever means you use, to communicate, is a language. Sex is a language. Romance is a language. Now, the number of persons who can understand a given language is always limited. It may be 1 person or 1 million or more. But there’s a limit.People think of numbers and operations when they think of Maths. But Maths is far more than that. For that matter, there is a wide — practically infinite — range of TYPES of numbers and TYPES of operation. But put that aside, for a moment. You can’t see, without Maths. Your brain calculates distance, light, perspective, etc. without your even being aware of it. The most advanced computers in the world — in combination, and with unlimited financial resources — can’t catch a ball thrown randomly. The maths involved is too complex. A child, however, can do it — with ease. The ball, in a way, is talking to the child. The child’s brain understands the language of the ball’s movemement.Similarly, you can’t read without Maths. Translating marks into letters into words into ideas into speech into memory into understanding into analysis into expression, involves Maths.Basically, Maths is an element of communication AND a mode of communication. But it is not, by any means, the ONLY or even the most important aspect of communication. Maths is one type of language. It is not the only type of language or the best type of language (best is always subjective). But it is surely a language.

The definition of Unauthorized Practice of Law (UPL) varies by state. It may be defined by rule, statute or court ruling. Some states have no definition and decide on a case by case basis.For Oklahoma, there is an article on UPL from the OK Bar Journal at Bar Journal.It includes one definition as “The preparation for a money consideration of legal instruments to be shaped from a mass of facts and conditions involving the application of intricate principles of law which can only be applied by a mind trained in existing laws in order to insure a specific result and to guard against other undesirable results comes within the term “practice of law.”I wrote an article in my Colorado Notary Blog that summarizes the definition of the practice of law for all states at Practice of Law, State Definitions - Colorado Notary BlogDisclaimer: I am not an attorney and this information is not legal advice.

Because when you live overseas, you have to file a tax return to the IRS. You don’t have to pay taxes necessarily, but you have to file a return. This is inconvenient.That is the main reason.Another reason is working for a foreign government. Many governments, even US allies, do not allow you to hold foreign citizenship and have a security clearance.Actually, I have found it is less inconvenient than I thought it would be. All I have to do is file a 1040 and a 2555-EZ, which takes like 30 minutes, stick it in an envelope, walk to Australia Post, pay $4 and away it goes.If you make less than around $100,000 overseas, and spent 330 days overseas, you typically don’t owe the IRS anything because the IRS knows you have to pay taxes in most countries.Yes, millions of Americans don’t know how to do their taxes and hire people to do it, and a subset of those spends $2,000 or $3,000 preparing their taxes hiring a lawyer in a foreign country to do it for them.Filing taxes overseas is even easier than in the US. You don’t need to send the IRS your pay stubs or keep track of anything unless they audit you. The 2555-EZ does not ask for it. It takes 30 minutes, an ability to read numbers from your bank account and addition (specifically hitting the ‘search’ button, typing in your employers name, and search for the deposits and add them together), and an ability to write.I might renounce my citizenship one day though if I feel like there is no chance I will reside in the US again, want to reside in the US, and when I have kids it might be more complicated doing tax returns for them in addition to me, and when they become adults being US citizens might make their lives more complicated.

Broadening the question slightly (since I haven't worked at Google) to "are there product managers without coding skills at hardcore Valley tech companies that are run/dominated by engineers?"In my experience, not so many -- and not enough.  Prod mgmt interview slates at these (great) companies have strong dev representation, and many devs assign a low IQ to folks who can't code.  (Didn't everyone write their first recursive routine in elementary school?).  Besides, you can't really prod manage something you don't understand.That said, there should be prod mgmt roles that are not code-facing:- consumer-facing offerings for non-coders- channel- and partner-facing offerings and services- professional services and support products- competitive and strategy focus (unless they target devs, e.g. code coverage tools)I'm holding back on UX/UI, since this now (often) demands strong UI coding skills.  Good mock-up tools turn designers into UI developers.The risk, of course, is that revenue-sensing skills and sharp market analysis are not dependent on ability to code.  Filling out a prod mgmt team with code-capable folks is great, as long as they bring along their market "spidey-sense."  See How to hire a product manager — by Ken Norton at Google.(Full disclosure: I were a engineer, but I aren't one now.)

Trump has a decent chance in 2020 because the democrats are moving farther to the left and leaving the moderates behind.At the end of the day, the only people who’s vote really matters are the moderates, the people who don’t have a hard core bias toward one side or the other. Because republicans will always vote republican and democrats will always vote democrat. It’s the swing voters that matter.Personally, I have always considered myself more moderate. I tend to lean more to the right due to my stances on things like gun rights and abortion, however most of my other opinions on social issues would be considered more left leaning. In previous elections I could have ended up voting for either party. While I was too young to vote in the 90’s, I probably would have voted for Bill Clinton both times. I was very proud that we had elected a black man for the first time as our president in 2008. In 2016, I really didn’t want to vote for either Trump or Hillary, because Hillary was corrupt and sketchy as hell, and Trump was a rich asshole.However, the problem that the democrats are facing today is that the party is moving farther and farther to the left, and this shift is happening very quickly. Many of the leaders within the democratic party are calling for radical ideas, such as socialism, a radical ideology that many of the old school democrats and moderates would balk at. Democrats are also calling for the abolition of free speech, on such speech that they loosely define as ‘hate speech’. They have legalized abortion up to the day of birth in some states that they control, an act that would have been considered murder by even the most hard core abortion supporters 10 years ago. Many left leaning moderates or most moderates in general are feeling like they are being pushed to the right, even if their opinions are not changing at all.Many of the leadership within the democratic party are simply being stupid. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is probably one of the stupidest people I can think of that has ever been elected into a public office. Every time she opens her mouth, people are left without words due to her sheer stupidity, even many people within her own party. Her bill (Green New Deal) would literally force us to kill most of the cows in the country, or ‘feed them something else’ as she says, because the cow farts are too harmful to the environment. The green New deal would make it impossible for anyone to travel by air, and would limit the number of cars to 1 per a household. Also, every building in the entire country would need to be retrofitted to be ‘carbon neutral’, and will cost upwards of $90 trillion. When the senate voted on this bill, it lost 57-to-0. Nobody voted in favor of the bill, not even the democrats. To top that off, only 57 of the 100 senators even voted because the democrats didn’t want to vote for it (because it was so stupid), and they didn’t want to vote against it (literally because it had the word ‘Green’ in the name and because a democrat wrote it). Voters see all this crap, this doesn’t go unnoticed. This is giving a very bad name for democrats, a party that used to be the party of intellectuals. Many will probably feel embarrassed to admit voting democrat come 2020.Many people are feeling lied to by the left leaning media. For the last two years, since the day Trump was sworn in, the democrats have been saying that there is all this evidence that Trump colluded with the Russians. This is pretty much all democrats have been saying for the last two years. That they hate Trump, and that he colluded with the Russians. Obviously we all know that the report has been released and, well, turns out he didn’t. Oh, but the democrats are still going for that. They have really shot themselves in the foot on this one, and I don’t know if they will be able to recover from it.The democrats have not brought any real solutions to our many problems to the table, while the republicans, whether or not you agree with the things they have done, have at least done something. The economy is actually doing quite well, unemployment is pretty low, many have seen a pay raise, and we all paid less in taxes this year. Yes even the low income earners, which I am one of, have paid signNowly less this year in taxes. Whether you agree with what the republicans are doing, at least they are moving, while the democrats are idle because they are so occupied by their hatred for Trump. The Democrat Party Motto in 2019 should literally just be ‘The party that hates Trump and all that he does’, because they literally don’t say anything else anymore.Although I don’t know who I will end up voting for in 2020, as that is a while off, things are not looking good for the democrats if they want my vote.

Did you know that a million dollars in U.S. currency weighs just ten kilograms? It's true. A freshly-minted $100 bill weighs in at slightly over a gram, and 100 of them is ten thousand dollars. 100 of those stacks, and there's your million.It’s not often that 10 kilograms - 22 lbs of anything can change your life. But on February 25th, 2014, that’s exactly what happened.  Day 1: $1,000,000 As the man in the gray suit walks away, I shout after him “Hey, come back here. Who are you? What’s this all about?” He does not look back and quickens his pace. Between the choice of chasing down a stranger, or securing what appeared to be stacks of currency, I chose the currency. We can resolve the issue of his identity later, but a loose sack of cash is, well, a loose sack of cash. I look through the contents again. Bundles of US$100 bills, stacked a hundred bills deep, wrapped in standard $10,000 bank bands. A quick count revealed that there were precisely a hundred of those stacks in the bag, and spot-check riffle-counts of the $10k bands suggest that there are no short-stacks within. These were full bands of $10,000 apiece of non sequential USD$100 bills, and I was holding what appears to be a million even in cash. And it feels like just as many question are swirling in my head, as I feel my pulse pounding in my skull. Who was that guy? Why me? What is this all about? But the most urgent thoughts swim past the dizzying deluge of unanswerable questions. Fakes. It’s one thing to inadvertently be the recipient of counterfeit currency; as you’re reading this very sentence, a clerk at a retail store somewhere in your city just accepted a counterfeit bill and made change from the real money in the till.  But to be in possession of a life-changing amount of counterfeit currency of the United States of America? Well, that’s sort of thing that can bring the full might and wrath of their law enforcement apparatus on your head. My emotions swing wildly between the elation of instantaneous wealth, and sheer terror that I was minutes away from being snatched from my home and corralled into a Federal holding cell, where I will grow old within its walls. Terror was the stronger of the two emotions, and I quickly went to work. First things first: the bag had to go. If there is a GPS tracking device embedded in its seams, it would take too long for me to root it out. Better to incinerate it, and make sure that whatever trail it was laying stops at a dead-end for its pursuers. I pour the stacks of bills into an empty duffle back from my garage, and lock the bag in my condo. There’s an abandoned marina just a mile from my home and I get in my car and drive straight to the docks, at the top of the posted speed limit. After pouring enough Kerosene on the bag to see the shimmering mist of petroleum evaporate above it, I lit a book of matches and threw it in the middle of the mass. A satisfying “Whoomph” lights up the fire, and I watch the edges of the bag curl and burn - sizzling in the midmorning sun. As the remnants of the bag’s embers swirl around the scorched mark on the docks, I drive back to my condo, pulse still pounding in my skull.I still haven’t figured out if the bills are real or not, but if this morning’s bag-drop was an attempt to pin a piece of deeply incriminating evidence bearing a tracking device … well that plan has been thwarted. Or delayed, at the very least. What do I do? What should I do? Call the authorities? Consider how it would sound: “Hi, Police? Somebody dropped a million dollars in cash at my home. I don’t know if it’s fake or not. Please help.” Would you believe such a ridiculous story? I wouldn't. Any reasonable law enforcement dispatcher would consider the caller legally insane, and I'd be arrested on the spot and sent to psychiatric care. If the money was real, it’d be seized and I'll never see it or spend it. If it was fake, they’d find a way to stick “possession of counterfeit currency” charge on me, and I'll be shoved into a Federal concrete box, draining the best years of my life away, only to be released when I can’t chew solid food any more. No. The only recourse is to handle this myself. I call an old college friend practicing criminal defense law in New York City: “Hey Roger, it’s Kai. How’ve you been?” “I'm cool. It's been a while. What’s up man.” “We should catch up soon in person. But I’m calling because I need something.” “Ok, shoot.” I swallow hard - it’s difficult to even say the words: “Who’s the best CrimDef lawyer you know in California, who defends against Federal charges?” A moment. His voice lowers noticeably. “Shit, man. You in some kind of trouble?” “I’m not sure yet.” I said, truthfully. “But I need someone experienced and smart ... someone who you’d hire, if you’re facing serious attention from the Feds." He lets out a long exhale. “Vincent King. Former rockstar DOJ prosecutor in D.C. Had a change of heart halfway through his rotation in Maryland, when he was securing Life sentences for “interstate drug transportation” charges on young Black kids who were busted muling for the cartels. Was offered a fast-track promotion straight to the U.S. Attorney’s office but went rogue. He set up independent shop in San Francisco, fighting Fed cases. Heavy hitter clients, but makes a point of refusing to represent anyone accused of murder or human trafficking. Intimate knowledge of Federal prosecutorial procedures and evidence-collection protocol. Smart. Methodical. Very expensive.” “Perfect.” “I did mention ‘very expensive?’” “You did.” “I’ll send his contact information now.” =================================“I’m sorry - Mr. King is in court all day and won’t be back in the office. His earliest appointment is tomorrow morning after a client meeting. Shall I book him for 11am for you?” “Yes, thank you Marta.” “We’ll see you tomorrow at 11 then.” I look at the digital clock in my kitchen -  it reads 10:44am. Just me and a stack of bills which may or may not be fake, no formal legal representation for over 24 hours. It’s going to be a long day. Taking even a few of these bills to a bank to corroborate their authenticity is out of the question. If a bank officer confirms they are fraudulent, I’ll be arrested on the spot, and since I haven’t hired counsel, I’d be at the mercy of the Public Defender’s Office - the most overworked and underpaid division of the American Criminal Justice system. No, thank you. The next number I dial is an old friend, Robert Kendrick, sole proprietor of ‘Secher Nbiw - The Golden Path,’ a gold bullion dealer with a whimsical Dune reference in the name of his shop. I’ve known Robert for over a decade; his business deals in large amounts of (mostly) legal cash. By necessity, he has a high-end currency counter/ counterfeit detection device in his office, which can swiftly count and verify large sums of money with precision. “Bobby, it’s me.” “Hey, what’s up.” “Can I come to your office - like right now?” “Sure, what do you need?” “I, uh, came into some money. Long story, and I really don’t want to get too much into the details … but I’m wondering if you’d be willing to run the bills through your counter for me? I’m not 100% sure they’re real, and I’d like a discreet way of verifying them. If they are, I’m going to pick up some bullion as well.” “Sure man. Happy to help. How much money are we talking about?”“$60,000” I flinch at that - I hate lying to friends, but at this point, I have no idea who to trust. Though if you want to be technical about it, I did come across $60,000. I am just simply not telling Kendrick about the other $940,000 that accompanied the $60k in the satchel that dropped into my life just three hours ago. “Come on by.” I pull apart a few $10,000 currency bands and start plucking random $100 bills from the middle of every 10k stack to assemble a randomized sample of the entire million. 100 bills, wrap it up. 100 bills, wrap it up. 100 bills, wrap it up. Three bands, thirty thousand dollars, randomized and fully assembled to be tested for authenticity. “Half” of my alleged $60k windfall. The rest of the loose bills are refolded back so there remains 97 stacks of $10k racks, re-wrapped and properly sorted. In 30 minutes, I will figure out if I’m rich, or holding on to enough illicit contraband to send me to Federal Prison for the rest of my life. =============================The Golden Path, like most bullion dealers, work out of small, highly secured office covered by multiple layers of security. At any given moment, Robert may have several hundred thousand dollars in cash or gold, silver and platinum bullion on the premise, it pays to be careful. One of the few civilians in California with a Concealed Carry Weapons permit, Kendrick and I met on pistol gun range ten years ago; we bonded over shooting .45 ACP slugs down-range. He and I spent countless hours debating the relative merits of his preference for single-action 1911s, vs my bias toward double-action SIG-Sauer P220s. In the bullion business, you learn to know the boundaries of money-laundering laws, and know how to walk right up to the edge without triggering reporting thresholds. Drop US$10,000 in cash or more at a car dealership, bank or bullion dealer in a single day’s transaction, and the U.S. authorities gets very interested in the source of your funds. By law, these business that receive such sums of cash must fill out invasive forms to tie the transaction to you and your Social Security Number. Keep cash transactions below US$10,000, and you can avoid much of that intense scrutiny. “Welcome back man. I haven’t seen you in a while.” A discreet man, Kendrick does not inquire further about the source of the cash. In the business of buying and selling gold bullion, you learn to comply with the letter of the law, while avoiding conversational topics that can jeopardize one’s own plausible deniability. While his clientele is mostly legitimate, I’m certain the most lucrative of his customers are criminals - and he smart enough to know not to ask the sort of questions that open up a line of liability for him.  So long as the proper theatrics of anti-money-laundering protocols are observed, everyone is technically in the clear. I hand him the three $10k stacks and he pulls the bands off them and puts the entire block in his high-speed currency counter. After a second, the machine spools up and the digital counter swiftly runs from zero to three hundred. Thirty thousand dollars. “It’s real.” It’s real. His words hang in the air for a moment, and it takes a moment for them to sink in. One million dollars. Genuine currency of the United States of America, the most recognized and accepted form of money in the world - denominated in crisp, non-sequential bills. I hold my face as neutral as possible, but my excitement made me slightly dizzy, and I am glad I was sitting down. “What’s the spot price of Gold today?” Kendrick’s eyes drift to his laptop computer, where the current day’s commodities prices were fed to him via a live stream. “$1334 Ask, $1335 Bid.” I nodded my understanding.Precious metals bullion trade in troy ounces, and prices are quoted on a per troy oz basis; depending on the specific type of bullion (bars, coins, make), there are different markups from the quoted price. Depending on the specific form, Gold is typically marked up by USD$20 to $60 over the day’s quoted Bid price, and sells for $5~10 over the Ask. “What do you have in inventory right now for gold?” “The usual. South African Kugerrands. American Eagles. Canadian Maples. Oh, I do have a lovely Credit Suisse 5oz bar that somebody just sold to me, and I’m happy to let it go for $25/oz over spot.” I quickly did the mental math calculation. With the hard-cap spending limit of $10,000 before I trigger any mandatory anti-money-laundering paperwork, $1335/oz works out to about seven troy ounces of bullion I can buy, without forcing Robert to fill out invasive forms about me and my identity. “I’ll take the 5oz Credit Suisse bar, and two American Gold Eagles.” Kendrick pulls out a calculator and taps in the numbers, “So five troy ounces at 25 over spot plus Eagles at $50 over spot works out to nine thousand six hundred and -“ “Take ten grand and keep the change.” I interrupt. “I will be back for more.” He raises his eyebrow, but says nothing. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.” He counts back $20,000 and hands it to me, taking the $10,000 in the back room of his office and returning with the 5oz Swiss bar and two heavy 1oz American Eagles, along with a receipt for US$9675. I pause for a moment and hand him back one of the $10,000 stacks. “I know the limit is $10k in transactions per day. Consider this pre-payment for a purchase tomorrow. Your call, on a mix of anything up that totals up to $9500. Keep the rest for you and Katie.” A barely-perceptible smile flickers across his face, then his face was clear again. “Sure thing.” There’s nothing like the feeling of holding physical gold - the density, color and heft of the metal is like no other substance on earth, and it is no wonder that since its discovery, every culture on Earth treated gold with awe and respect. With 18 hours left before I can understand my legal options, there’s only two things I know for certain: 1. The money is real. 2. At least one person knows exactly where I live, and where the money was dropped off. I need to get mobile. I need to get mobile and off the grid ASAP.... to be continuedIf you'd like to be the first to get updates to this story, please add me kai chang 張敦楷 (kaichang) on Twitter. Part 2 (of 10) is being written right now, will be announced on Twitter. Please follow for updates on the saga of the Quora Millionaire! :D

There are many other answers here refuting these negative stereotypes, so instead of doing the same, I'd like to tell a story. A story of two groups of children.Note: I've been homeschooling my sons for two years.Last year, the homeschool group in my area organised a group excursion to an historical village a couple of hours away. It's the kind of places that operates solely for school groups — you can't just show up on your own.Thirty homeschooling families showed up to the village. Between us, we had around seventy children, ranging in age from 2 to 17.As we arrived, the children greeted each other with squeals of delight and hugs for friends they may not have seen for anywhere between a day and a couple of weeks. No one was excluded. The preschool kids held their older brother or sister's hands, and were welcomed into the group; the teenagers hung to one side, but happily included any pre-teens who wanted to join them; the ASD boy who has trouble talking to others was invited to join a group of older children, who spoke more quietly and shielded him from the sun and the chaos with their bodies; the ADHD boy who wanted to run in circles attracted half a dozen other boys and girls who joined in with him until they all collapsed giggling. Meanwhile, the parents gathered on the other side of the “landing area" to talk and share ideas and commiserate over bad days.When everyone had arrived, the representative from the historical village, whom I shall call Jan, loudly instructed the children to all stand in two straight lines, without touching each other.The kids looked at her blankly for a minute, and then milled forward in an approximation of order. Younger siblings kept holding the hands of their older siblings; friends kept their arms around each other; if there was a line of any kind there, it certainly wasn't straight.Again, Jan told them to stand single file. This time, she said the preschoolers had to go back to their parents. An eleven-year-old girl said politely, “Excuse me, Jan. Why can't my sister stay with me? Are we going to do something inappropriate for her?”Jan looked somewhat flustered and said she just wanted to divide them into two groups.A teenage boy looked around, and then called, “Anyone on that side is group 1, and anyone on this side is group 2. Is that okay?”Jan didn't look pleased, but all the kids nodded. A couple of 6 and 7 year olds turned to kids near them and asked which group they were in, and the older children answered them.“That's not going to work,” Jan said. “Group 1 needs to follow Bob and Group 2 needs to follow Dave. You have to walk in a line.”The kids looked back at her — some, it must be admitted, like she was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. One of the parents tried to reassure Jan that it would be fine, but it wasn't until the parent promised to make sure all the kids went the right way that Jan nodded, and told the men to lead the groups through the village. And off the kids went. They knew where they were going. I certainly had no concerns that my 10 and 6 year old children would do anything other than follow Bob. The other parents clearly felt the same, and we followed after the groups.We were led to a field and the children were told to sit in straight lines facing towards the village square. Our homeschool kids completely failed at this task. Some of them sat down in a vague approximation of a line. Others sat in groups, with the younger kids in the centre. A lot of the teenagers remained standing at the back.Not one child left the area. They may not have been sitting in two straight lines, but they were eagerly waiting and watching what was going to happen next.A few minutes later, two classes of mainstream children arrived.They were all dressed in identical uniforms. They marched in time, in single file, not one of them speaking or touching another. They sat down on cue, each sitting perfectly still and looking in the right direction.They were nine years old.The homeschool kids were talking quietly amongst themselves. They'd noticed the old schoolhouse and a few buildings near it, and I overheard a number of debates about what would be in the buildings. One thirteen year old was telling his friends (both boys and girls, ranging from 9 to 15 years) about a book he'd read about this time period. Another group were debating whether we'd learn anything about Aboriginal history. A couple of preschoolers who'd returned to their mothers were coaxed back over to sit with the kids.Meanwhile, one of the mainstream kids turned to speak to his friend beside him, and his teacher poked him in the back and made a shhhh gesture when he looked at her.The show began. The homeschool kids immediately stopped talking and listened. A few edged closer when they couldn't hear properly. The mainstream kids took the opportunity to talk to each other while their teacher was distracted.We were instructed to go to separate activities, and Group 1 of the homeschooling group were told to go to the laundry display. So was one of the mainstream classes.The mainstream kids stood up and walked in perfect single file. They sat down in straight lines without talking, and each of them drew a worksheet and a pen out of their bag.The homeschoolers followed in an unruly mess, by comparison, kids first (they were eager to get there) and parents following a short distance behind. The kids arrayed themselves behind the other group, sitting or standing as they felt comfortable.A lovely older lady delivered a talk and demonstration on old fashioned washing techniques and equipment.The mainstream kids hastily filled out their worksheets, occasionally being tapped on the head by their teacher if she deemed them not to be paying close enough attention.The homeschool kids watched and listened intently, occasionally whispering amongst themselves to clarify something that had been said.When the presentation was done, the lady asked if there were any questions. And she was hit by a deluge from the homeschoolers.“What would they do in a drought?”“How expensive were those machines? What if someone couldn't afford one?”“My grandmother has something like that, but it's electric. Is that the same thing?”“Can you still buy washing blue so we can try to do this at home?”“How much wood did they use in a day?”And so on.The mainstream kids, who had finished filling out their worksheets, were mostly staring into space by this point. Their teacher prompted them to ask questions a few times. When no one did, she specifically called on a girl in pigtails to ask a question. The girl looked blank for a minute. Then she raised her worksheet and read one of the questions from it.She'd already written down the answer.Satisfied, the teacher nodded to her. A couple more homeschoolers asked questions, and then we were sent to our next activity — this time, each group separately.The next time I saw the mainstream kids was at lunch. They were sitting on the grass in two straight lines, one child in front of the other, each of them silently eating their packed lunch. Any time someone spoke, the teacher called their name until they stopped.Meanwhile, the homeschoolers were sprawled on the grass in groups, comparing what they'd each seen that morning, sharing food with each other, and having a great time. Someone had pulled out a pack of cards and was teaching the younger kids to play a game.“I'm finished eating,” a ten year old said. “Can I go look around?”“Sure,” his mum said. “Just take someone with you, and be back in fifteen minutes or you'll miss out on the next activity. ”And so a group of ten or fifteen kids went to look around the historical village on their own. They were back in fourteen minutes.When the mainstream kids finished eating, they were instructed to stand up in their lines. They were led, single file, to the bathrooms. They were never out of their teacher's line of vision. (Except, one must assume, when the kids were actually in the bathrooms...)And so let me tell you what I know, not just about the point, but about the effect of homeschooling.Homeschoolers are confident socialising with children of all ages.Homeschoolers are also confident talking with adults.Homeschoolers are accepting of others, and keen to both learn from, and teach, their peers.Homeschoolers may be protected from unnecessary stress, standardised tests, bullying, social ostracism, and emotional trauma, but they are free to explore their interests, express their personalities, and engage in the real world.Homeschoolers are curious and engaged in their own education.Homeschoolers are absolutely dreadful at standing in straight lines and following arbitrary rules.As for mainstream educated children...Well, I can tell you with great certainty that they’re absolutely fantastic at being quiet, standing and walking in lines, and filling out worksheets.As to their social skills... I have to assume they're fine. I don’t know. They didn't have the opportunity to use their social skills that day. Perhaps regular school days are different.I also can't comment on how protective their parents are. Their parents weren't there. But their teachers certainly didn't seem to trust them to walk twenty metres to the bathroom on their own.Personally, I homeschool because I would like my children to grow up valuing curiosity, creativity, critical thinking, and kindness. And I really don't care that they can't arrange themselves into straight lines arbitrarily - as long as they don't push in.*** This is the obligatory note to say:I'm sure not all mainstream schools so rigidly enforce rules like this. I'm also sure that the students have more freedom on the school grounds. This was one group of people on one day, and is not meant to be an accurate representation of other days, schools, teachers, etc.I'm sure there are homeschooling parents out there who are rigidly protective and discourage social interaction. (For obvious reasons, they don't come to homeschooling group events.) But those parents would be the same regardless of how their children were educated. That is a parenting choice, not an effect of homeschooling.

Working there is a lot easier, as far as the amount of thinking, creativity, intelligence, etc required.Once at Google, you’ll likely find yourself slowly going nowhere on nothing in particular, while working long hours. That is, the work is usually pointless, meaningless, and irrelevant.On the flip side, once you’re hired, you can essentially coast for many years, while doing almost nothing. Also, the less drive/ambition you have, the less you’ll be affected by political games, an absence of promotions, being put on a crappy part of a legacy product, etc (ie, you won’t really care when they try to waste your abilities, drown you in endless BS work, or try to have everything lead to a dead end).You’d think at this point you’d be looked at unfavorably, but I kept noticing it was those who politicked or tried to coast that would receive promotions and large bonuses. That is, if you’re just about rising and making money, then if you find yourself doing actual work, you know you’re going to lose.Google doesn’t really get rid of low performers, so if coasting results in little to nothing being done, you’ll probably have nothing to worry about. That is, accusations of low performance are usually only made when management is trying to push someone out for other reasons (see them as a threat, don’t want to pay, want credit for something they did, etc).Eventually, after having done nothing for many years, you’ll likely have difficulties finding another job, as your skills will be out of date; however, those that want to coast usually have no plan on quitting— ever.

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