Category Archives: unschooling

Cleaning Fail? Parenting Fail? You’re both right.

Not even two weeks ago, I blogged about how much I needed a break. I was exhausted, I was stressed out, and I was panicking about getting read for our upcoming trip. I took exactly two days off from blogging, missed it terribly, and jumped right back in.

Yesterday, I was back in panic mode. We leave for our trip in 12 days, and it still feels like there are mountains to climb before we do. Making matters worse is the fact that I’m the only one who feels that way. Mike simply doesn’t stress out about much of anything, and the kids are just looking forward to a fun vacation (as they should be)

Sunday night was a rough night. I wasn’t feeling well; Everett had a nightmare very early on, and was in our bed the rest of the night; Tegan was tossing and turning and kicking even more than usual; I ended up sleeping in a ball on the end of our bed. The big boys were up past 2:00 (which is not unusual for them) but were woken by Tegan far too early in the morning. Everyone was tired and grumpy, and what I should have done was given us all a free day… a no obligation, lounge around, rest and recoup kind of Monday.

But, oh no. We had 13 days left. We had to CLEAN!

I started with my own desk, and instead of leaving well enough alone, I then decided it was imperative that I tackle the computer room.

This is the ‘after’ picture, but the girl had already dumped something out again.

This room has been a thorn in my side since we moved in to this house nearly 5 years ago. It looked like it was originally a formal dining room (judging partly from the big chandalier that once hung in the middle of the ceiling), but the previous owners didn’t seem to know what to do with it either. When we first toured the house, it was mostly empty, save for a little couch in the corner. For us, it has always served as a computer room slash project room slash collector of random, miscellaneous stuff. It’s always a mess, and yesterday I was going to clean it.

I asked the kids to help me, but they were too tired. (Of course they were too tired; No one got any sleep). I asked them again. Spencer was half asleep on the couch, Paxton was engrossed in a computer game, and Tegan and Everett were chasing each other around the house. No one really answered me.

And again, I should have taken the hint, followed their lead – and my own level of exhaustion – and rested. Instead, as if possessed by some mop-wielding inner demon, I became that mom. The stomping, huffing, sighing, “fine, I’ll do it myself”, martyr of a mom. For the next hour, I was noisily moving chairs and bookshelves, digging stuff out from beneath the desks, flinging sweeping wayward toys and papers and books and tools to the center of the room to sort through. Spencer had fallen asleep by then, Paxton was calmly moving out of my way as I cleaned around him, and the little ones had wisely moved their play to another room, lest they accidentally witness the embarrassment of their mom in the throes of her tantrum.

It really wasn’t my finest moment.

I was tired, I was irritated, and I couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of my labor once I’d finished.  Who can enjoy something they’d done with the wrong attitude in the first place?

I do still want to get the house clean before we go.  But not like that.  Today, I will get a grip and remember what’s important.  I’ll listen to my kids, listen to my own body, and save the cleaning for another dang day if need be.

And if all else fails, I’ll stick to the kitchen side of the house, and avoid the computer room completely. 

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Filed under about me, kids, not sweating the small stuff, parenting, unschooling

Schedules and Blackboards

I’ll admit it, a lot of mainstream articles tend to confuse me. I recently read this one, about designing a home school-friendly floor plan in your house, and I was left shaking my head (after I picked it up from my desk). It advocates school rooms and schedules, signs, announcements, and special posters. I can’t help but wonder: If you do make the choice to home school, why on earth would you want to re-create the very place that you’ve decided to opt out of?

Here is a breakdown of some of the piece’s key points, followed by what I would do differently:

Situate your home school in a dedicated space of your home. Turn a spare room or part of a guest room into a classroom.

Recognize that when you opt out of school, you’ve made the entire world your classroom. There is learning to be had in every room of your house… in the living room, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the bathtub, in the backyard. And that’s just at home! There are parks and playgrounds, museums and libraries, lakes and forests, stores and post offices.  Learning.  Is.  Everywhere.

Hang a schedule of classroom hours to send a message to family members regarding your availability for non-school issues.

What happens if someone has a non-school issue during school time?  What happens if someone wants to learn something during non-school time?  What happens if someone has a non-school issue during non-school time, but you are still unavailable because you are busy planning for the inevitability of non-school issues disrupting your upcoming school time?

The beauty of being home with your kids is that you can be with them.  No need for schedules, no need for trying to divide your day into school and non-school hours.  You can curl up on the couch to read to a little one at 2 in the afternoon.   Or play blocks with a toddler at 10.  Or look through a microscope with a teenager at lunchtime.  Or watch a movie with your whole crew at 11.   Learning isn’t something that happens between certain hours in certain places.   As a homeschooling parent, you have the unique opportunity to enjoy your kids, enjoy their company, and enjoy learning with them and from them as you go about your day.

Make the home school area attractive for you and for your students. Hang a bulletin board, large calendar and posters related to the courses you plan to teach.

Make your whole house attractive and interesting for you and your kids (and they’re your kids, not your students)   Sure, hang a bulletin board if that’s your thing.  Put up a calendar to keep track of play dates and baseball games.  Hang up a poster if someone wants one.  But forget about words like “courses” and “teach” and be with your kids!

Provide your student with a desk and a comfortable chair. Place a desk for yourself in front of the student’s desk.

This one’s a joke, right? Unless you’re living in an old schoolhouse in an 1800’s episode of Little House on the Prairie (in which case, I suppose you’d have bigger things to worry about) there is absolutely no need to think that a school desk plus a teacher’s desk equals learning.  I understand that schools have limitations and need to do things a certain way.  I do.  But you made what one would hope would be a conscious, well-thought out decision not to send your child to school.  Why, with all the freedom that you’ve purposely gained, would you want to replicate the very thing you stepped away from?

And again, he or she is your child, not your student.

Use the worktable as a lunch table.

Or eat in the kitchen.  Or on the lawn.  Or in the tree house.   Or have a carpet picnic.  Or skip lunch altogether and make homemade ice cream.

Establish a library in your home school.

Books are great!  So this one I actually agreed with.  Until I got to:

Include grade-appropriate textbooks, fiction and non-fiction reading materials.

When you home school, you can remove the phrase “grade appropriate” from your vocabulary altogether.  When you’re out of the school environment, grade levels and artificial age expectations no longer exist. You can pay no attention to recommended reading levels, and instead look to YOUR child.  What would he or she like to read?  Is he into Dr Seuss?  Does she like mysteries?  Do they enjoy books about history?  When you let your children follow their own unique interests and time-table, you eliminate the stress and frustration that comes with trying to conform to someone else’s idea of what they should do when. 

Your seven year old might not be reading yet.  Your ten year old might be reading Chaucer.   Both are fine and normal!

Provide a break or recess area for you and for your student. Stock magazines, comic books and games to entertain during down time.

Do I really need to say it one more time?  It’s your CHILD, not your student. 

And absolutely, get magazines if your kids like them.  Buy comic books, stock the shelves with games.  Fill your house with craft supplies, tools, science kits, building toys, DVDs, video games.  Recognize the recreation and the learning that is in all of the above.  But mostly make your home a safe haven… a place where your kids can be themselves.  Where they can play and grow and learn… in their own time in their own way.  A place where they feel engaged, confident, and loved.  Where they can make noise, make mistakes, and make a mess.  Where they are truly free.  Free to just….. be.

“What is most important and valuable about the home as a base for children’s growth into the world is not that it is a better school than the schools, but that it isn’t a school at all.”
John Holt

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They’re Just LAZY

Lazy: (adjective) averse or disinclined to work, activity, or exertion; indolent.

In the past couple of days, I have heard no less than half a dozen people use the word “lazy” in regards to their children, usually in the context of:

Oh my kids could never homeschool, they’re too lazy. Or, unschooling wouldn’t work for us, because my kids are too lazy. Or, I tried giving my kids more freedom, but they are just. too. lazy.

When I was in school, I was one of those students who did the absolute bare minimum I needed to do in order to maintain my honor roll GPA. I rarely did homework, crammed for tests the night before (or not at all) and essentially coasted through four years of high school. When I got home from school, I took a nap nearly daily. When I was done with my nap, I sat. When I was done sitting, I got a snack and I sat some more. Was I lazy? No, what I was was tired. I was mentally and physically spent from eight hours of tedious boredom, of being forced to sit through classes that did not interest me nor match my learning style.

A friend of mine, a very kind hearted and intelligent soul, had a terrible time in school. He was always failing one class or another, believed himself to be stupid, and had parents who continually chided him for being LAZY. “I know you could do better in school, if only you weren’t so lazy.” He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t lazy. He simply wasn’t in the right learning environment for his needs. Today, this friend works 50+ hours in an upper-management position, and takes exquisitely good care of his house, his wife and his three young children. Does that sound like someone who is lazy?

Calling a child – any child – who is in traditional school lazy is categorically unfair. Maybe the child is bored. Maybe the child is unchallenged. Maybe the child is interested in something else. Maybe the child learns best in a different fashion than the “norm.” Maybe the child is simply a round peg trying to fit into a square hole, and maybe the child is flat-out exhausted from any or all of the above.

As for children who are unschooled? Equally unfair, for a multitude of reasons. When given the freedom to live and learn, all of us… children and adults alike… will vacillate between periods of work, and periods of play. Times for physical activity, and times for quiet reflection. Moments of labor, and moments of rest. These activities may lead from one to another in the course of a day, or a week, or a month, as a person’s needs and seasons change.

Not fitting into someone else’s current idea of “productive” is not laziness.

We can’t open people up and see what’s going on inside of them. Those quiet moments, those “lazy” moments, may very well be huge times of growth and learning for the individual going through them… whether that person is watching TV, playing a computer game, reading a book, or sitting in a chair and staring at a wall. When my children are choosing to engage in a period of “downtime,” no matter how long it may last, I don’t deem them lazy any more than I deem myself lazy if I spend an hour catching up on Facebook, or watch The Biggest Loser instead of cleaning the kitchen counters, or get so involved with other projects that I let the laundry sit in the dryer (or sometimes the washer) for three days straight.

I don’t doubt for a second that when a person is truly given the freedom to choose that 1) a period of what may look like laziness is in fact a normal, and healthy!, part of the learning experience, and 2) that it will be followed by an equally normal and healthy period of what society deems as productive work… whether it’s physical labor, problem solving, reading, writing, researching, or creating.

Unschoolers work hard and play hard. They recognize that learning and living are not two separate things, and that there is knowledge to be gained from all situations (even the ones that may look to an outsider like they are doing “nothing.”) And at the end of the day, being able to embrace that realization is very much the opposite of laziness.

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Food: Balance, Choice & Freedom

A few things you will never hear in this house:

No dessert until you finish your vegetables.
Just a few more bites.
You’ll sit at the table until dinner time is over.
No, you can’t have that.

Things you very well might hear in this house:

Can we make cookies for breakfast? (Sure)
Can I finish this whipped cream? (Why not)
Can I have some beans for a snack (Of course)
Aw man, who ate all the asparagus? (It was me)

We talk a lot about food around here.. partly because I’ve studied it for most of my adult life, and just can’t help it; and partly because it’s fun! Shopping for it, growing it, experimenting with it, making it, eating it. I’m very much of the opinion that if nothing else, food is to be enjoyed.

We’ve never battled over mealtimes, and never limited what our kids could or could not eat. They are the only ones who know when they are hungry and full, and they should be the ones who make the decisions about what goes into their bodies. It makes me sad to see families continually fighting their kids over food, and turning something that’s supposed to be pleasurable into a power struggle between all involved.

I want to tell people to relax. To take a big deep breath and a giant step back. Battling, cajoling, and bribing with food is not only not a great thing for your relationship, but also completely counterproductive. I don’t know anyone who learned to have a healthy relationship with food through force, but I do know a lot of people who have unhealthy relationships with food due to force (and who ended up resenting their parents to boot)

I’ve read a lot of philosophies regarding food, particularly among unschoolers, that state that food isn’t good or bad; it just IS. I completely agree with that on general principle (and yes, absolutely: Hate and war are bad, but a cookie is just a cookie) But it’s a simple fact of science that different foods do different things in our bodies… some negative, some positive. Certain foods make us feel better than others. Most adults have realized this – whether they pay attention to it or not – and children realize it too when they’re given the freedom to do so.

Our refrigerator and cupboards are stocked with real, whole foods, and the kids are free to eat (or not eat) any of it at any time. They’re also free to request cookies, ice cream, candy, or any other “extras” any time someone’s going to the store. They all like to bring their own money for treats at the dollar store, they like helping me bake, and it’s definitely not uncommon for them to flag down the ice cream truck. They’ve inherited their mother’s sweet tooth to be sure, as well as their father’s love of burgers and hot dogs.

But their day to day chosen diet? They snack on fruit, nuts, raw vegetables, and yogurt. They eat whole grains, lots of greens, and a variety of proteins. When I go out to the store I always ask them if they’d like anything special, and two of the four usually have no request at all. Spencer always makes sure we don’t forget orange juice, and Everett usually has a certain fruit in mind. They eat, and enjoy, food, of all types and all varieties. And if we happen to have cookies and they want cookies before dinner? They have them. If they want cookies FOR dinner? They have them (and will most likely follow up with a “traditional” dinner sometime before bed.) They trust their brains, and their bodies, to know what they need… and they are healthy, happy, and strong.

When I started writing this post several hours ago, the kids were laughing as they finished off the last drop of whipped cream we’d bought a few weeks ago when we’d made fancy drinks in the blender. Right now, two of the boys are eating oranges. And about thirty seconds ago, Tegan came up to me, eyes wide, cradling something in her hands.

“Mommy. Can I have this??”

I had to look twice to see what it was. “Sure, if you want to.”

Her chosen snack? A huge ripe tomato. And she happily sat down and ate the entire thing.

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Filed under food, freedom, parenting, unschooling

Trust

“You just have to let go and trust it.”

I read that on Facebook yesterday. It was simply a comment about – of all things – a keyboard application for an Android phone. One person was endorsing a particular type of keyboard, a friend said he’d tried it but couldn’t get used to it, and the first responded with those words:

You just have to let go and trust it.

I realize this was just about a keyboard. It wasn’t about life, but it might as well have been. Pure trust may well be the answer to a more peaceful life with our kids, with our spouses, and with ourselves.

I think of the issue of trust often when I’m answering common questions and fears about unschooling and mindful parenting especially.

What if they just want to play video games all day?
How will I know they’re learning?
Won’t they be lazy?
How will they get into college?
How will they learn right from wrong if I don’t punish them?
How will they learn responsibility if I don’t require them to do chores?

My answer to all of the above is this: Equip yourself with information, tools, and the support of people who have walked this walk ahead of you. And then let go and trust…. trust your children, trust yourself, and trust your instinct! When I first started this journey fourteen years ago, I read all the books… read all the Dr Sears and Alfie Kohn and John Holt and John Taylor Gatto. But I never would have accepted any of it, never would have taken any of it to heart if it didn’t agree with my own instinct, my own inner voice, my own inner logic… that part of you that says, “Wow, this just makes sense to me!” I found that part of me, and I learned to trust it.

John Holt says,

Trust Children. Nothing could be more simple, or more difficult. Difficult because to trust children we must first learn to trust ourselves, and most of us were taught as children that we could not be trusted.

And it’s true. It starts with letting go and learning to TRUST. Whether it’s unschooling, parenting, or Android keyboards.

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My Sheltered Children

Shelter – (v) To place under cover. To protect.

Several weeks ago, I posted a call for people to share the most common myths and misconceptions they hear about homeschooling. That pesky lack of socialization was of course the first thing mentioned, but the list eventually grew. One thing that was offered was the objection that home schooled kids are “too sheltered” and it’s one I forgot about until I saw it in my drafts folder this morning.

Too sheltered.

First, I’d like to point out that strictly per the definition up above, we should want to shelter our children. As parents, it’s our job to shelter our children. There are a myriad of circumstances in which we need to protect them, keep them safe, and place them under cover.

But I’m aware that that’s not what people mean when they raise this objection… they mean overly protected, and overly sheltered. They mean kids who are raised in one tiny little sealed bubble, kids who are not able to venture out of said bubble, and kids who are missing out on the big wide world.

Now, I can’t pretend to know why everyone chooses to homeschool. But I do know, with absolute certainly, that my decision to keep them out of school was based on the exact opposite premise of wanting to make their world smaller.

I keep my kids out of school in part because I want to make their lives bigger, not smaller. I keep them out of school because I want to give them more freedom, not less. Freedom to explore, and learn from, the whole world. Freedom to choose who they do – and do not – spend their days with. Freedom to discover where, when, and how they learn best. Freedom to talk with us about what they do and do not want to be exposed to. I try to never make knee-jerk, unilateral decisions (ie: no, you can’t watch that movie because it’s rated R) but rather let each individual child be my guide. It hasn’t failed me yet. When my children are interested in specific ideas, plans, and experiences, we try to find a way to make it happen.

But surely, they’re sheltered from something by not being in school? Well, yes. They’re sheltered from the painful dread that comes with having to go to school every day when you’re being bullied, or teased by your “friends”, or unfairly singled out by a teacher. They’re sheltered from being required to sit through a class, or a semester, or an entire year of teachings that are not applicable to them, or are not in line with their own personal value system. They’re sheltered from spending all day, every day, in an environment that might not be best for them, in a multitude of ways. They’re sheltered from not being able to have any say in the people, places, and things from which they learn.

I surely make no apologies for sheltering them from any of the above.

Interestingly, when I went to dictionary.com for the above definition, I saw this sentence as an example of its usage:

Parents should not try to shelter their children from normal childhood disappointments.

This is something I see a lot. Similarly, I hear a lot of people say that kids need to go to school because they need to learn to deal with things like bullies.

Am I the only one who finds this an odd – and sad – justification against home schooling? First, I’m not really sure what “normal” childhood disappointments are, but life provides plenty of those on its own. Life’s sometimes bumpy. While I would love to be able to protect my children from all of life’s disappointments, I can not. Home schooled or not, sheltered or not, they know disappointment. It seems completely illogical (not to mention cruel) to actually make a point of ensuring that they experience their fair share, and ensuring that they experience more than what life will naturally give them.

As to bullies… Bullying is no joke, especially in this day and age of the internet, cell phones, and Facebook. I remember the pain of being bullied well, and I can’t even imagine what it’s like today. My being humiliated in front of a group of five girls, or even the whole lunchroom, is surely nothing compared to being humiliated in front of the whole school. Or a group of schools. Or an entire internet community. All it takes these days is one click of a “send” button. Bullying is a real and serious problem, one that’s contributing to the loss of self-esteem, loss of confidence, and loss of LIFE. Bullying is breaking children, all over the country, and in no way could I ever be convinced that that could be a good thing, or a necessary thing, or a rite of passage.

My kids have been disappointed, and my kids have encountered bullies: On the playground, at homeschool groups, in baseball, at Cub Scouts, on field trips. And they’ve handled themselves just fine, without ever having been subjected to the day in/day out torture that some children have to endure.

They are confident, and they are self-assured… despite their lifetime of being sheltered.

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Filed under bullying, homeschooling, misconceptions, unschooling

New Cars and Bumper Stickers

We took a family drive down to Tucson today. I have to admit, I don’t enjoy that particular drive. I love driving north, where I can sigh and breath and enjoy all the mountainous scenery, but driving south towards Tucson (which itself is a lovely city) is 2 hours of flat and brown.

But today we were on a mission.

Several weeks ago, Mike – who is very enamored with his Land Cruiser (the one that’s in my banner picture) – announced that he wanted to get me one, too. That way we’d have two vehicles with four wheel drive. And plus, he assured me, I’d like it way better than my Sequoia. I hemmed and hawed, because that’s what I do. He kept casually bringing up again, because that’s what he does. There wasn’t anything wrong with my Sequoia, but the thought of something new was tempting. In the end, I told him that as long as it didn’t increase our debt load, we should do it (and decreasing it would be even better!)

This week, he found and sent me the link to this listing:

… and I said, “yes, please.”  It met all our criteria, was exactly the right price, and was only two hours away.

So off to Tucson we went.  We ended up making almost a whole day of it, getting donuts on the way and lunch when we were done.  And wouldn’t you know… he was right. I fell in love. It was as if fate had brought us there. After three hours (and one of the hands-down most pleasant and easy car-buying and trading experiences ever) I had myself a spiffy new – to me – Land Cruiser.

The only thing that made me sad about leaving the Sequoia behind was the fact that it meant that I had to part with my Autodidactic sticker, the only sticker I’ve ever put on my car. That sticker has sparked more home/unschooling related conversations with strangers than I can even count. And I loved it.

So I was thrilled when I got to have one last conversation when the salesman spotted it and asked what the word meant.

(Autodidactic = self taught.  It’s one of my favorite words, and my boys are fond of proudly declaring themselves autodidacts)

The salesman loved it so much that I later caught him just staring at the sticker with a big grin on his face.  Seeing me notice him, he said, “I’m just enjoying my new word.”  Hee.

I got a new truck, and I imparted wisdom.  That’s just a good day all the way around.

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Our Big, Huge, List

The kids and I have been a little… uninspired… lately. I blame part of it on decompressing after a very busy 2010 (even though that was now over 3 months ago), and I blame part of it on myself. I haven’t been sleeping for a long time now, which as anyone who suffers from insomnia can tell you, starts to make a person, well, kind of crazy.

Things haven’t been bad (bone crushing exhaustion aside), but they’ve been… safe. Familiar. Like we’ve been in a rut, and not a terribly exciting one.

So, inspired by my lovely friend Erica (aka Sierra Mama) I decided to make a list of goals. I invited the kids to join me, and together we sat outside and brainstormed a bunch of things that we want to do, see, and learn about the rest of the year… things to work towards, things to be excited about, and things to get us going again. Everyone had something to add, and it was all put in one big list with no designations, because we’ll all work together and help each other in our pursuits. I’m sure we’ll add to it, and swap things out as we go, but this is our list as of today in all its beautiful, optimistic glory:

1. Pan for gold
2. Learn how to fix lawn mowers
3. Learn how to fix vehicles
4. Learn how to play hockey
5. Learn to read well
6. Make a paper-mache volcano
7. Make homemade pasta
8. Drive go-carts
9. Get better at skateboarding
10. Learn to ice skate
11. Learn to roller skate
12. Learn about scorpions
13. Learn to drive a riding lawn mower
14. Learn about sting rays
15. Learn about jelly fish
16. Learn how to do Algebra
17. Go on roller coasters
18. See a panda bear
19. Get a gerbil
20. Ride a segway
21. Make our own sushi
22. Finish watching the US History DVDs
23. Build something out of wood
24. Learn about classic muscle cars
25. Learn about the weather
26. Learn about horses
27. Make our own organic chicken feed
28. Have a lemonade stand
29. Have a yard sale
30. Practice writing
31. Learn about computer repairs
32. Learn about elephants
33. Go to unschooling conference
34. Go on cross-country trip
35. Save up for Disney trip in 2012
36. Save up for a DSi
37. Learn about electrical system
38. Learn about heating and cooling systems
39. Learn about architecture
40. Go fishing
41. Take vitamins every day
42. Learn how to sew
43. Keep working on expanding blogs
44. Finish book
45. Learn how a lawn mower is made
46. Build a playhouse
47. Learn how to do flips n stuff
48. Practice yoga every day
49. Learn about flexibility
50. Learn how to use our camera better
51. Go in a steam room
52. Learn about the presidential election
53. Learn about branches of government
54. Learn about trees
55. Paint the hallways
56. Put in the new security door
57. Build a run for the chickens
58. Paint and redecorate bedrooms
59. List Paxton’s DS on Ebay
60. Finish Personal Trainer program
61. Go camping
62. Ride in a canoe
63. Get up to 500 geocache finds
64. Hide a new geocache
65. Dig in the ground
66. Go to Science Center
67. Landscape the front yard
68. Knit something
69. Make jewelry
70. Finish turning the Maverick into a MavFinder
71. Get another tattoo
72. Dye our hair
73. Do more science experiments
74. Grow crystals
75. Go in the lava tubes
76. Go to the zoo
77. Put up a new swing set
78. Start cub scouts
79. Learn how to play football
80. Make a poopy
81. Learn about digestion
82. Go back to Japanese garden
83. Take an art class
84. Build a remote control car
85. Read something every day
86. Write something every day
87. Pray every day
88. Make daily to-do list
89. Learn how to cook
90. Make more cupcakes
91. Learn how to make homemade chocolate
92. Sand and paint Tegan’s little table and chairs
93. Sign up for 2011/2012 yoga teacher training
94. Write 3rd Nano book, and edit 2010 Nano book
95. Pay off Amazon credit card
96. Upgrade our cell phones
97. Get cell phone for big boys to share
98. Get an indoor hammock
99. Figure out how to make Paxton his own room
100. Get a digital piano
101. Learn to play drums
102. Learn to swim
103. Make a movie and post it on YouTube
104. Get braces off!!

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Filed under life, organizing, unschooling

Christian Unschooling, Defined

I didn’t write this (though I wish I had) but I stumbled on it today, and I thought it so beautifully and succinctly said in two paragraphs what it took me 4 whole posts to say:

“Radical Unschooling is the Trust that a child will seek out and learn what he needs to know, when he needs to know it, without coercion, without school or school type methods, in the freedom and safety of his family. Our role as parents is to facilitate and make available our time, space, money, and lives to helping them explore the world.

Radical Christian Unschooling is the Trust that not only will a child seek out and learn what he needs to know when he needs to know it, without coercion, without school or school type methods, in the freedom and safety of his family, but that God will direct the child’s path Himself. Our role as parents is to act as guides and mentors in the learning process, and to disciple our children in our Faith through our daily example of walking out our faith before their eyes.”

–Susan McGlohn

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A Day in the Life

A few weeks ago, myself and another unschooling friend spoke to a graduate class about unschooling. Since then, I’ve been contacted by handful of students wanting to interview me, learn more, and use our family as a case study for a final project. At first, it was just through email, but yesterday someone came to visit, observe, and talk with us in person.

I was nervous… worried that it would be the day that the kids would bicker, the washing machine would overflow, and the dog would finally catch and kill a chicken. Thankfully, I worried for nothing. None of those things happened, and in fact she was able to witness the kind of unschooling day that just unfolds like a symphony.

She arrived in the late morning, and by the time she’d gotten here I’d already had a lengthy conversation with Spencer about electrical circuits (complete with diagrams, by yours truly). I’d also had a lengthy conversation about the inner workings of a hand grenade with Everett (also complete with diagrams, by Everett) We’d picked up together, tended to all the animals, and gathered the morning eggs.

When she got here, we’d settled into a comfortable rhythm for the day. Tegan wanted to paint, so she was set up at the kitchen table. When she’d finished painting, she switched to making hand prints, then washed up to play with – and name – all the wooden letters in her Tegan puzzle. Everett had tired of writing his name on little post-its around the house, and was out back experimenting with water, mud, and physics. He was quite proud of the simulated hand grenade he’d created by filling a tube with water, and plugging the end with grass, mud, and a pin fashioned from a small root. Paxton spent most of his time on the computer, and Spencer alternated between computer time and adult conversation with me and our visitor. We introduced her to the rats and the snake, and spent a long time on the back patio watching the chickens and talking about school, learning, and upper level math.

I’d promised the kids we could go to the store to get the ingredients for homemade ice cream, so after she’d left we made our one – and only – outing for the day. Car conversation included genetics, war, and public transportation. We got our ice cream makings, and a fun dinner. When we got home, we pulled out the globe. Our guest was originally from Lebanon, so we found its location on the globe, along with several other countries that we’d wondered about. The geography discussion turned to talk of history, and more wars, and a good chuckle over a Friends episode where Chandler concocted a whole ruse about getting transferred to Yemen for work.

The evening held scooter riding, ice cream making, movie watching, and trouble shooting on our new (failed) camera battery.

And it was very, very good.

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