A couple of days ago, a fellow unschooling friend was telling me about her eight year old, who’d been complaining of being bored lately.  She said she’d suggest a swim or a game of catch or an offer to do something new together… and then a few minutes later he’d be bored again.

It’s rare that my eight year old is bored… in fact, most of the time, the day just doesn’t contain enough hours for all the things he wants to do, try, and experience.

My 15 year old though,  he’s been bored.  In thinking about it, I’m not sure ‘bored’ is even the word.  He’s been in a very quiet season.  He’s been sleeping a lot.  He’s been regrouping.  He’s not been especially focused on one (or any) particular pursuit, beyond doing that aforementioned regrouping.  Like my friend, I’ve been offering up suggestions when he seems to want them, while at the the same time trying to respect his space and his needs.  Many days, that means simply letting him be.   For the past couple of weeks, a casual onlooker might have thought he hadn’t been doing much of anything at all (though we know that’s not the case.)

And then, three days ago, he started reading The Hunger Games.

Spencer has never been much of a pleasure reader.  He reads for information.  He reads magazines and articles on the internet.  He’s a Google expert.   He’s not one to really pick up a novel.   But he picked up The Hunger Games, and something happened.

Suddenly there was a new burst of passion.   It’s been followed by in-depth conversations (and lots of them) about everything from geography to character development to plot lines to war.  There have been explosions of learning.  Lists of other books he wants to read.  New interests.  New excitement.  New activity.

And just like that, the period of rest was over.

A short, but important side note:   It’s actually a pet peeve of mine when parents point to their child’s love of reading as a proof of unschooling’s – or perhaps their parenting’s – success.  Not because reading isn’t wonderful (you’d be hard-pressed to find a more avid reader than myself), but because it’s simply a tool, one that once it’s mastered is no more or less valuable for its learning potential as anything else.  My point would have been the same whether the impetus for Spencer’s current burst of activity had been a book or a movie or a video game or a trip to a local museum.  He was inspired, and he’s running with it.

I actually don’t care if my children read for pleasure.  What I care about is that they follow that spark, that passion… wherever it comes from, and wherever it leads.