Category Archives: unschooling

Christian Unschooling, Part 4: That Pesky Word, "Radical"

If you’re just getting here, you might want to read 1, 2, and 3 first.

“The radical of one century is the conservative of the next. The radical invents the views. When he has worn them out, the conservative adopts them.” ~Mark Twain

I saved this post for last for a few reasons. First, in many ways it’s the most important, because it ties everything together and is at the crux of why we do what we do. It’s also one of the hardest and most frustrating to write, and the one I’ve been losing the most sleep over.

I’ve come to a disheartening realization lately. What I said in part one about feeling like I’m alone in many ways was the truth… too Christian for the unschoolers, too unschooly for the Christians. But the fact is, in some cases that feeling is self-imposed. The unschoolers I know have, as a whole, been extremely welcoming and non-judgmental. As my unschooling circle grows, I’m just more and more thankful for its presence, and proud to be part of it.

Christian homeschoolers are, sadly, not as welcoming. I’ve read, and received, a lot of harsh words from other Christians who take issue with what I’m doing, from unschooling to discipline to television habits.

The ironic thing though, is that the harshest comments actually tend to come from a segment of other Christian unschoolers, those who are quick to denounce the term “radical”. And they don’t mess around about it. Seriously. Hell hath no fury like a don’t-call-me-radical Christian unschooler scorned.

And frankly, I’m confused. They decry secular unschoolers for being “judgmental” of some of their choices as Christians, while they talk out of the other side of their mouth about how “sinful” radical unschooling is, how “stupid”, how it’s a “contradiction to the word of God,” how those kids will grow up to be wild and rude, with no discipline, no respect, no self-control.

Um. Wait… who’s judging who?

Here’s the thing:

I call myself a radical unschooler. And the reason I call myself a radical unschooler, as opposed to a garden-variety unschooler, is that I’ve taken the freedom, the respect, and the trust that I have for my children’s education, and extended it to all other areas of our life and our relationship. That does not mean that I’m like every radical unschooler you’ve ever met or read about. That does not mean that my house, and our life, looks like that of every radical unschooler you’ve ever met or read about. It seems like this should go without saying, but I’ve read too many things lately that lead me to believe that people have one – negative – stereotype of radical unschoolers, and they like to toss everyone in together.

We’re not all the same.

I feel like I need to make that distinction, because I keep hearing broad, sweeping statements like

“Radical Unschoolers let their children make ALL the decisions”
“Radical Unschoolers let their children be rude, out of control, and show no respect for other people”
“Radical Unschoolers don’t set any boundaries”

And then, inevitably, come the scriptures… how we’re commanded to “train up” our children. How we’re to chastise and discipline, and DEMAND RESPECT. How we’re to Train. Up. Our. Children. How to do anything less would be to doom them to a life of failure and a damaged relationship with God.

:::Pausing to take a deep breath:::

I want to be really clear when I say that I’m fully aware of the responsibility I have as not just a parent, but as a Christian parent, and one who is trying to raise children in Jesus’s footsteps. And I don’t subscribe to radical unschooling philosophies in spite of it….. I do so because of it. Radical unschooling makes me think about how I’m treating my children, makes me think about what I’m modeling, makes me think about what respect means, makes me think about why I make the decisions I make as a parent… whether it’s asking my daughter to hold my hand when we cross the busy street, or telling my 6 year old that sure, he can have ice cream before dinner. Jesus had a lot to say about how to treat children. Not so much about bedtimes, time-outs, and required reading.

You’re shaking your head again. But, training! But, discipline! But teaching them to respect you!

My three year old recently became enamored with the words, “thank you.” She says thank you more than anyone I know. She was never taught to say thank you, but she has learned, because her father and I say thank to her, to her brothers, to each other. We show respect to her, to her brothers, to each other. I think there’s a big confusion here between the words “teach” and “learn.” We do not have to TEACH kids to have respect and discipline for them to LEARN to have respect and discipline. I do not TEACH my kids about the Bible, and about God and Jesus. But they LEARN because it’s a part of our life. We talk about it, we answer questions about it. We live it. We breathe it.

I “train up” my children – if that’s a phrase that works for you – by fostering our relationship. By modeling discipleship. By talking to them, by guiding them, by treating them the way I would like to be treated. By treating them the way that Jesus would treat them.

As for the radical unschooling misconceptions I listed above:

No loving, attentive parent truly lets their young children make all their own decisions. My daughter is still very young. She may decide that it’s a good idea to play in the middle of the 45 mph street (except she wouldn’t, because through modeling and guidance she has learned that it’s not safe) But if she did decide to go into that street, I would – as her parent – decide to keep her out of harm’s way. What if she decides not to comb her hair? Or decides not to eat her vegetables one night? Or decides to wear cowboy boots, polka dotted tights, and a princess nightgown to the grocery store? Does giving her autonomy in those areas put her in harm’s way? Does letting her make those decisions conflict with the word of God? Yes, our children get as many choices as we can possibly give them. And I get choices, and my husband gets choices. A true unschooling family operates as a working, breathing, give-and-take UNIT, not child-centered, and not parent-centered. My needs, my husbands needs, the kids needs: they all factor into the equation.

As to being rude, out of control, and disrespectful… we behave as well as we’re treated. And life is full of boundaries, whether we like it or not. There are externally imposed boundaries, and boundaries that we set ourselves without even realizing it. We set boundaries with our tone of voice, with the way we treat ourselves, and the way we treat others.

If a family has kids who are disrespectful, if the kids truly are making ALL the decisions, if there honestly are NO boundaries… maybe it has less to do with radical unschooling and more to do with that *individual* family’s choices.

I don’t begrudge anyone who isn’t a radical unschooler. Or who isn’t a homeschooler at all. That’s all part of the freedom I spoke about it in Part Two. We are free to raise our children, and educate our children, in the way we are individually led. For me, I am led to be a radical unschooler… to give my children choices and autonomy. To operate as their parent, their partner, their facilitator, and their friend. To support them and guide them as they grow and learn and follow their own paths, not mine. As a Christian, I fully believe that their path is laid out for them by someone who knows FAR better than I. I believe in that, and I trust in it. Radical? You bet. Unscriptural? Not at all.

And finally, I feel I’d be remiss if I didn’t point something out. If you’re reading this, and you’re a Christian who bristles at my using the word, “radical”, think about this: If you’re going to be more than a follow-the-rules, Sunday morning Christian; if you’re going to get out of your comfort zone; if you’re going to “walk the walk” and truly ask yourself what Jesus would do in all situations…. you’re gonna have to get radical.

Jesus was radical. The Bible is RADICAL.

Being a believer should be radical.

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Christian Unschooling, Part 3: Humble Yourself Like a Child

Have you read 1 and 2 yet?

“And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.”

Jesus had a pretty high opinion of kids. The verse directly before the one above says that “whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” The one before that says, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

I think of these verses every time someone questions whether or not it is biblical to unschool. I think of these before I think of those about freedom. I think of these before I think of those about parenting. I think of these before I think of those about education. Why? Because no matter what else an unschooling journey is, it begins with the children. If it were not for the children, there would be no unschooling.

(I see you shaking your head. But, but… what about the verses about discipline? What about the “training” verses? I’ll get to those, in my next – and final – post on the subject. This one is about the kids.)

I think children are wonderful (and it’s a good thing, since I have four of them :)) but even I am pretty awed by the weight of the above verses. Not only are we to welcome children in God’s name, not only are we to humble ourselves like children, not only are children the greatest in the kingdom of heaven… but we are to actually BECOME like children. Pretty strong words, don’t you think?

BECOME like children…

I know a lot of adults who could stand to become more like children. Children naturally have so many beautiful traits that are so often lost as they become adults! I don’t ever want my children to lose that certain something… that part that believes in magic, and miracles, and the goodness of others. I don’t want them to rush to grow up. I don’t want them to lose their spark, or lose their love of life, or lose their love of learning. I don’t want them to ever lose their faith.

Children are:

open
passionate
full of wonder
innately curious about the world around them
driven
humble
innocent
imaginative
joyful

They are specifically, and perfectly, and uniquely created, exactly as they are. They are not potential productive members of society… they are productive members of society right now. They are deserving of being treated with dignity and respect. They are not – as many would have you believe – second class citizens.

I have four children. They all have their own personalities, their own interests, their own passions, their own styles of learning. They all have their own unique sense of self. They all have their own paths. I want to honor that, and honor them, the way Jesus honored children. One of the ways I choose to do that is by unschooling. By spending my days with them. By nurturing my relationship with them. By guiding them and helping them and trusting them. By giving them the freedom to live and learn in their own way at their own pace in their own time.

Unschooling (and homeschooling in general) is not right for every family. Absolutely! But I can’t help but think that no matter what educational route we choose, as parents we still have the right, and the responsibility, to love our children as fiercely as Jesus did. To respect them, to appreciate them, to honor them, exactly as they are, exactly where they are. To in fact hold them in such high regard that we view them as examples of what we ourselves want to become.

Part 4

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Christian Unschooling, Part 2: Freedom

*(This is the second part of a series. You can read the intro here if you missed it.)*

“It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.”

I don’t like being told what to do. I’m the person who, when told to do something, will likely want to immediately do the exact opposite, just on general principle. Lots of unnecessary rules make me uneasy. Unsolicited advice makes my skin crawl.

I was never one to march to anyone’s drum but my own.

You would think then, that I wouldn’t be a person that would subscribe to any one religion. Religions are full of rules right? To an extent you’d be correct. And I have been to churches that have been very rules-focused. There have been times in my life that I’ve inwardly rebelled against anything even remotely overtly “religious,” and to this day I’m very sensitive about feeling like I’m being preached at.

Thankfully, what I’ve come to realize is that Christianity isn’t about the rules. It’s about a relationship. It’s not about living a life of rigidity. It’s about living a life of FREEDOM. Verses like the one above tell us again and again that we’ve been set free, that we are not under a yoke of slavery.

And freedom is something I can celebrate!

Freedom to raise our children the way we see fit
Freedom to choose – or not – from any number of educational alternatives
Freedom to recognize and foster and appreciate our children’s freedoms
Freedom to walk our own paths
Freedom to treat others with kindness, respect, and humility
Freedom to learn from, and with, all the people, places, and experiences in our lives

Does that freedom mean we should just be running all willy-nilly all over the place, with no regard for other’s feelings or well-being? Does it mean that there are no consequences, no guidelines, no right and wrong?

Well that’s where the relationship comes in. You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you’ve had a fight with someone you love? That gnawing sense of general “ick” that persists until you’ve made up? That’s how I liken the feeling I have when I’ve strayed from my faith. Not because I’m “breaking rules”, not because I’m disappointing someone… but because I love God, and when you love someone you WANT to do right by them. You WANT to listen to what they have to say. You WANT to hear their message. So what’s the message, you ask?

The message (at least before all us people and churches and prideful opinions gunked it all up with complexity) is simply to love one another. To focus on the relationships, to focus on the freedom we have in Christ.

People find freedom in all kinds of places, but in my own life, that freedom comes from God. I don’t worry about tomorrow because of my faith. I don’t worry about the small stuff because of my faith. I welcome and cherish and embrace our God-given freedom, and I know that within the framework of that freedom, I won’t go wrong if I focus on the relationships… relationships with God, with my family, with everyone I come into contact with. Do I mess up every other second of every day  occasionally?  Of course!  I’m not perfect, and the person I want to emulate was.  But because of grace, and because of freedom, I can just try harder the next time.

It doesn’t make sense to me to let go and fully trust in that freedom unless it’s in all areas of my life, including that in which I raise my children.  I believe with all my heart that when we truly let go and have faith (no matter where that faith comes from) that our paths will be laid out for us.  This is where mine has led, and continues to lead, so I trust it.  I believe in it.  And I am so thankful that I have the freedom to live it.

I ultimately chose to unschool for a lot of reasons.   But allowing my kids to also live and learn in complete freedom will always be at the top of the list.

Part 3

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Christian Unschooling, Part One

This post is a response. Actually, it’s a response to several responses to a response to a response to a call for guest posts. Got all that? Doesn’t matter. There were a lot of things said, things that ignited something in me. And because the threads that were ultimately spun off the original spool turned into a mud-slinging fray which I had no interest in joining, I came here… here where I could share my perspective, in a mud-free environment. As the title suggests, this is only part one. There will be more, but first a little background:

A few months ago, I went to a message board that I used to frequent but hadn’t posted on for a very long time. I landed there by following an incoming link on my blog’s Stats page. It turns out that someone had posted a link to my FAQs, looking for reactions and opinions to this weird thing called unschooling. And people responded.

Now, I am fully aware that what we do is outside of what mainstream considers “normal.” And I’m also fully aware that people are going to be curious, and have differing opinions, and have misconceptions. I am completely, 100% fine with that.

But can I just say, it’s weird to happen upon a conversation about yourself, one that you haven’t been made privy to? It was the first time it had really happened to me, and it was a very strange, unsettling feeling. And it was made worse by the fact that because I hadn’t posted in there in so long (and felt very much like an invited guest to the party) I didn’t feel right saying anything. I would have loved to be able to say, for instance, “Well, that’s not really what I meant. Let me clarify.” Or, “I could elaborate on that if you’re interested.” Or, “I don’t think you really heard what I had to say there.” Or, “Could I answer your questions to help you better understand?” Alas, like I said, I remained silent. I went about my day, said nothing to anyone, and tried to swallow the fact that maybe I missed an opportunity.

But that’s the nature of the internet, for better or worse. There’s one camp over here, and another over there, and a zillion and one in the middle. Surely there is some common meeting grounds, some neutral territory as it were, but man… that place is tough to find. I rarely fit in with Christian groups, because I’m an unschooler. I rarely fit in with unschooling groups because I’m a Christian. There is something called Christian Unschooling (for which I am thankful, to be sure), but there are differing camps there too, something I’ve recently been reminded of. “We’re unschoolers, but not RADICAL unschoolers. Don’t think we’re radical unschoolers!” Because that would be, apparently, unchristian.

A few brave souls have tried to bridge the gap, strove to embrace similarities instead of nit-pick the differences. Their reward? The mudslinging I mentioned earlier. A friend of mine recently posted this Christian Unschooling (*update 7/29/13. This blog has been disabled*) post as a guest blogger. Someone else posted a (fairly respectful) counter post on her own blog, and then the comments – and the mud slinging – began. Christian unschoolers don’t care about their kids! They’re doing them a grave disservice!  They’re unChristian!  They’re not following the bible!   Except they didn’t say it like that.  They were, well, mean.  And they were judgmental.   And they weren’t listening to each other.  They weren’t having a dialogue.  They were blurbing out a whole bunch of preconceived notions, and they were passing judgment based on one blog post.

I’m kind of….. well, I’m flummoxed.  What’s a person to do?  We’re supposed to get out there and spread the word right?   That yes, you CAN be both a unschooler and a Christian.  We’re supposed to be able to have intelligent conversations with mature people, not get stoned at the first sign of dissent.   We’re supposed to love one another, to embrace differences, to accept other people.

I’m used to being a lone reed… but I just refuse to believe I’m alone in this.

And so, I’m going to do it… I’m going to blog my own feelings on Christian unschooling, and invite your (respectful) comments, opinions, and questions.  This is where I’ll be coming from:

1) I am a Christian.  By Christian, I simply mean someone who loves Jesus and strives to be more like him.

and

2) I’m also a radical unschooler.  By radical unschooler, I mean an unschooler who also has eschewed traditional parenting tenants in favor of a partnership, one in which there are (among other things) no mom-imposed bedtimes, no chore-charts, no time outs.

I’ll talk about both of those things in much more detail, including my “WHY’s” in Part 2.    Join me.

Part 2

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T is for Tegan

Tegan (3 years old at the time of this writing) is enamored with letters right now. All letters, but especially the letter T. She will find, and excitedly point out, the Ts everywhere we go. “T for Tegan!” And when she can’t find one, she’ll make one…. crayons, markers, eye liner, dirt, yogurt… she’s not choosy about her medium.

Yesterday was the kind of perfect March day that makes all my east coast friends – who are still under snow in many areas – groan with disgust. Low seventies, blue skies, very gentle breeze. A day that just defied you not to be outside. The kids and I have been a little housebound this week, so we got ourselves moving, got ourselves dressed, and headed to the park.

On the way there, we discussed such important topics as iCarly, what it means to write a bad check, jail (and juvenile hall), Corvettes, The Fray, and current trends in fashion. I would have been content with the day even if it had ended there, I so love riding and chatting with the kids.

But an afternoon of fun was waiting at the park:

There was swinging

And sliding.
More swinging
And running.
More swinging
And climbing.
 Hey look, cousins!
And more swinging.
And important meetings in the sand.
Yelling
And oh yes, even more swinging.
And last, but absolutely not least, a much looked up to and admired older cousin..
to help her make a gigantic, larger than life, T for Tegan in the sand.

And the day was complete.

(Today’s post was brought to you by the letter T and the number 3.)

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Goals, Plans, and Heavy Equipment

Spencer is fourteen at the time of this writing.

I love having a teenager. What’s that you say? What about the sullen, rebellious, eye-rolling teenagers that sitcoms would have you believe are the norm? Not in this house. I like my teen, and find I’m enjoying being around him more than ever. I’ve so far enjoyed all of my kids’ ages, but there’s just something really cool about someone who still plays with legos, but can laugh at and appreciate a sophisticated joke that goes over his younger siblings’ heads. Or a person who can equally enjoy both Tom and Jerry with his three year old sister, and Law and Order: SVU with his parents.

As he’s gotten older, he’s naturally started thinking and talking more about the future, and about what he sees himself doing as an adult. For the past few years, (and really, longer than that, since his fascination with construction vehicles began as a toddler) he’s been interested in going into the field of construction, and learning to operate heavy machinery. Yesterday, we spent a long time looking online at different schools, training programs, and apprenticeships. We talked about all his different options, and what he needs to do to get there. He is so excited.

One of the questions I get a lot about unschooling is, “How will they get into college?” Now, I can personally think of about 7,492 better ways to spend the tens of thousands of dollars that college costs (especially when you don’t want to go into a field that legally requires a certain degree), but that aside, an unschooler gets into college just like anyone else… they find out what’s required for their school/s of choice, and they do it! It’s no more simple nor complicated than that.

In Spencer’s case, he has no interest (or need) for traditional college, but will have to go through a rigorous, and largely on-the-job, training and testing program in order to learn what he needs to know, get certified, and be able to work on his own. First he’ll need a driver’s license, and a high school diploma or GED. We’ve been researching that too, and there are more and more high schools that grant diplomas to homeschoolers for life experiences and/or after taking a test.

Most of the programs he’s looking at also have an age requirement of 18, which means that he has four years (at a minimum… no one is telling him he can’t decide to do it when he’s 20. Or 34.) Four years to live, learn, think, plan, and do what he needs to do in order to earn his diploma and meet his own goals. Considering that a motivated and eager person can learn everything that is taught between K through 12 in a matter of months, I’d say he’s in darn good shape.

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Blips

This picture is from last year, but it makes me happy, so I wanted to post it again. Today was a good day, and a fun day. The kids and I spent it at a friend’s house, where they had a scavenger hunt, jumped on the trampoline, baked Irish-themed goodies, and even braved the pool. It really was a lovely day.

But…

I’m still feeling regretful that I was less patient than I would have liked in dealing with the ten year old when he didn’t want to get off the trampoline, and with the six year old when he burst into tears for the fourth time, and even with my husband when I got home. I’ve been distracted, and scattered, and unfocused for longer than I care to admit.  The house is nearly unlivable it’s so messy, half the kids are coughing (or sneezing or runny-nosed or feverish, again), and I am tired… tired and unable to sleep, one of the most frustrating and continuous conundrums of my life. 

I was telling a friend recently that unschoolers sometimes paint too rosy of a picture.  That it’s such a joyful life that everything just sort of flows.  That it’s always happy and moonlight and roses and rainbows.  And make no mistake… it IS a joyful life.  It IS a happy life. 

But sometimes… sometimes, there are blips.   And because I always want to keep things real, I think it’s only fair if I share a blip or two.

Welcome to my blip. 

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Life as a Race: Observations From the Sidelines

Picture a race.

Not two kids playfully challenging each other to see who can make it to the swing set first, but a RACE race. A marathon. A triathlon. Picture a race.

There’s a guy or two way out in front, clearly ahead of the pack.

There’s a guy or two way in the back too, clearly lagging behind.

Then there’s the whole mass of people in the middle. Kind of hard to make heads or tails of what’s going on there because they’re all clumped together. Some are working as hard as they can to stay with the pack, pushing themselves to their very limit so they don’t fall behind.

Others are operating at 75%. They know they could push a little harder, but they’re satisfied just to keep pace with the crowd. Maybe they’ll save some energy for the end. Maybe they’ll be content with the status quo.

Then there are those who could be with the leaders, maybe even beyond the leaders. They know they could do it, and everyone around them knows they could do it. But for their own personal reasons, they too stay with the pack. Maybe they’re bored. Maybe they just don’t feel like racing anymore. Maybe they never really wanted to race in the first place. Or maybe they wanted to race, but they wanted to do it on a horse. Or a bicycle. Or a stagecoach. But for whatever reason, they’re here in this race, so they put in the bare minimum of effort, they hang with the crowd, and they blend into the masses.

Does this sound familiar to anyone?

This is exactly what’s playing out, day after day, with our children. Public schools, private schools, home schools (yes, I’m leaving no one out) You have to catch up! You have to get ahead! You have to WIN!

It begs the question… who ever decided that childhood should be a race? And who ever thought it would be a good idea to believe it?

The ironic part is that once you’re an adult, that particular race is just abruptly over. No finish line, no celebration… it just ends. Honestly, I don’t think I placed well in the race that was school (my grades were fine, but I was turned down for National Honor Society, I never “worked up to my potential”, and I didn’t finish college) But, alas, it doesn’t matter anymore. No one’s knocking on my door wanting to tutor me in math so I can catch up to my Budget Manager husband. No one’s knocking on his office door forcing him to improve his reading speed so he can catch up with me. No, that race has ended, and in its place an entirely new one has begun. As adults we’re behind – or ahead – based on jobs, on money, on neighborhoods, on societal standings. It’s all about keeping up with the Joneses.

Am I the only one who sees how utterly insane this is?

I tend to make decisions first with my heart. But beyond that I have always been strongly drawn to logic. And it doesn’t make any kind of logical sense to subscribe to a system that calls someone “behind” because they’re not reading by age six. Behind what, exactly? Behind the average? An average’s entire existence hinges on the fact that there are numbers both below and above it. Without a wide range of “normal” there would BE no average. Why, why are we labeling, and pushing, and demanding that these kids catch up? Why should they have to follow anyone else’s path, run anyone else’s race, but their own? Why should these kids start their lives thinking that they are “less than” somehow? When they are KIDS, when they should be playing and exploring and learning in joy? I honestly don’t understand it.

And it’s not just a problem of position. No, the problem is with the race. Every position has its own unique set of problems.

The ones in the front, the leaders, forget why they’re running. Eventually they’re running just to win, regardless of why they started the race in the first place. They lose sight of their goal.

The ones in the back, the ones who are behind, feel inadequate. They think there’s something wrong with them, and they slowly give up and push back against everyone who’s urging them to catch up. They lose their confidence. They lose their faith.

The saddest ones though are the ones in the middle (which is most of us). They too feel inadequate because they’re not winning. And they too forget why they’re in the race. But more than that, they get lost in the crowd. They lose their sense of individuality. They lose THEMSELVES.

I will not let – no, I refuse to let – life be a race for my children, or for myself. I refuse to give in to the notion that life is about “winning”. Life is not a race. Can I say that again?

LIFE IS NOT A RACE.

Life is not a clear-cut path, but a meandering stream. It’s not a merry-go-round, but a roller coaster. It doesn’t always go from point A to point B, it doesn’t always make sense, and there are sometimes some mighty big obstacles. But it’s ours to live. It’s our KIDS’ to live. It’s not about competing with everyone around us; it’s about following our own paths.

I really try not dwell on any “what ifs.” I try to live in the moment, and fully appreciate the here and now. But if there’s one “what if” that keeps trying to make a return appearance in my head, it’s the one about my own school experience. What if I hadn’t gotten swallowed up in that clump of people in the middle of the race? What if I hadn’t lost myself? What if I hadn’t let my self-esteem be so badly battered by the teachers and peers who told me I wasn’t good enough? What if I’d had that time I always wanted… time to write, time to daydream, time to figure out who the heck I was?. Who would I be now?

I look back, and I just have to feel sorry for that lost little girl. And I don’t want to ever have to feel that way about my own kids. I don’t ever want to deal with that “what if.” I want my kids to be able to learn according to their own time-table, not someone else’s. I want them to be able to follow their own interests, not someone else’s. I want them to be able to know who they are, and be proud of who they are. Right now. Not after they learn a certain set of skills, or pass a certain test.

I don’t want them to lose sight of what they’re doing.
I don’t want them to lose their faith.
I don’t want them to lose themselves.

And so, on behalf of myself and my children, I respectfully opt out of your race.

We choose to live our own lives, we choose to forge our own paths, and we choose to find our own happiness. We choose not to measure our success against anyone else’s, and we choose to accept and embrace and love who we are… exactly as we are, exactly where we are. On the sidelines of your race, living life. Exploring in the mountains, playing in the streams, and digging up the dirt.

We opt out.

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Filed under homeschooling, life, parenting, unschooling

Life With a Three Year Old

This is my favorite coffee mug

We bought these mugs about 5 years ago, and they are still my favorite mugs for my morning coffee.  They just make me deliriously happy.  We originally bought 8, and are down to 7 (which is pretty darn good, considering my tendency to break things.)  I have a few other mugs that I will use, depending on my mood, but this is the mug you’re most likely to see if you drop in on me on any given day.

Yesterday, I was on cup number three.  I took that final swig, set my cup down, and saw this:

It looked like a ramen noodle, but we don’t buy ramen noodles.  It could have even been a small worm, which in some ways might have been preferable to what it actually was.  I asked Tegan if she knew what it was, and she very casually peered into my cup, went back to what she was doing, and said,

“Oh, that’s my dental floss.  I put it in there.”  Because naturally, the most normal and sensible thing to do with your dental floss when you’re done with it is to put it in your mother’s coffee. 

She’d put used dental floss in my coffee.  Used dental floss.  In my coffee.

“How about next time, you put it in the trash when you’re done?  Or you can give it to me, and I can put it in the trash for you?”

“Okay, Mommy.”  Sweetly, innocently.

Never a dull moment.

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Filed under parenting, random, Tegan, unschooling

Unschooling and Unparenting: What’s In a Label

 

A few years ago, there was a piece on one of those nightly new programs (20/20, Dateline, or something similar) entitled, “The Dark Side of Homeschooling.” Against my better judgment, I watched it. The story was about a family that claimed to homeschool – because they wanted to keep the authorities away from their house – while they abused and neglected their children. The kids were living in squalor, existing amidst rotting food and feces. It was a horrific, heartbreaking story.

Now, a logical, thinking person would watch something like this and know that despite its gratuitous title, it is not about homeschooling. It has nothing to do with homeschooling, and everything to do with abuse and neglect, things that sadly can (and do) take place among ALL educational paths, ALL different socioeconomic and religious backgrounds. It’s not about homeschooling. The problem arises from the fact that not everyone is a logical, thinking person. There are people who watch things like this, people who may already have a bias or a poor understanding of homeschooling, and unfairly use it as further fuel… justification to continue to mistrust, misunderstand, or hold animosity towards alternative means of education.

This is why I’m never really thrilled by the idea of homeschooling or unschooling being in the media, and why I think it’s so important that we’re mindful of our wording when we talk about them. Words DO matter, especially when a poorly chosen word gives the wrong impression.

Earlier this week, I read a blog post about homeschooling “extremes” that used words that I just couldn’t reconcile in my mind with unschooling. I have since read it over and over, and I believe the author’s intentions were good … but that she ended up missing the mark.

The first thing that caught my attention was the phrase, “hands off.” If you look at a school-at-home style of homeschooling, one in which the mother assigns work, gives tests, and prescribes a set of a “must-do’s” as “hands on”, then I suppose the opposite of that would be hands off. Unschoolers don’t assign work, they don’t give tests, they don’t prescribe a set of “must-do’s” They do not direct their children’s learning at all. The problem with the description of “hands off” though, is that unschoolers are quite the opposite of hands-off! Unschooling parents are there on the floor playing with their kids. They’re in the backyard looking at worms and mud puddles and butterflies. They’re in the kitchen, making cookies. They’re in the library, helping to find books on photosynthesis or engineering or stingrays or whatever the newest passion may be. They’re in the car, driving to scouts or baseball or gymnastics. They’re answering questions, providing supplies, and playing games. They’re fetching scissors, they’re holding tape measures steady, and they’re making life-size chalk drawings in the driveway.

They’re present. They’re involved. They’re hands-on. Regardless of the original intention of the words, hearing a phrase like “hands off” doesn’t help anyone understand unschooling.

But what has really stayed with me – and quite honestly, confused me – was her assertion that “unparenting” was a common term used within unschooling circles. And by all means, my unschooling circle is not very large. I went to my first unschooling conference three years ago, and began reaching out on the internet even more recently. But I’ve talked to hundreds of unschoolers, and not once have I ever heard anyone claim to be an “unparent.” In fact the only time I’ve heard the term referred to by an unschooler has been in the context of:

Unschoolers do NOT unparent.

By its very nature, the word itself is a negative word. The prefix “UN-” means “NOT.” And the word “parent” (per my standby, dictionary.com) means “to be or act as a mother, father, protector, guardian” *English lesson over* So I’m left wondering, why would an unschooler – or anyone for that matter – embrace a label that literally means to NOT act as a protector? As a guardian?

Make no mistake… radical unschoolers do parent differently than the traditional, authoritative model of parenting that many people are used to seeing. They believe in giving their children freedom, and they allow their children to be autonomous when it comes to decisions about things like bedtimes, meals, and media usage (three big ones that are frequently mentioned) But within that framework of freedom there is loving support. There is guidance. There is protection. There is parenting. Yes, it may look different from “because I’m the parent and I said so” parenting, but it is parenting. Based on the word alone, unparenting, or “not parenting” isn’t a style of parenting. It’s neglect.

Take my bedtime example up above….

A) In a more traditional household, a good and loving parent would probably have set a specific bedtime based on their family’s needs. They may follow a schedule when it comes to things like getting ready for bed. They may do a snack. They may do a bath, read books, say prayers, and say goodnight with a hug and a kiss.

B) In an unschooling household, a good and loving parent would probably allow their child the freedom to follow their own internal clock when it comes to sleep (which works for most unschooling families) As the evening winds down, they may watch TV together or play together. Parents and children go to bed when they are individually ready. They may do a bath, read books, say prayers, and say goodnight with a hug and a kiss.

C) In a non-parenting household, the ‘parent’ may ignore the signs of a tired child altogether. There are no goodnights, no hugs and kisses, no winding down together. There is no protection. There is no guidance. There is no parenting.

Parent A and Parent B do things differently, but the end result is the same…. a child who goes to bed feeling loved, safe, and protected.

Parent C, the unparent, is neglecting their child.

Now I have to be honest and share that during the couple of days that I was working on this post, a friend pointed me a website that showed me that there is indeed an entire positive movement calling itself “unparenting.” Some of its tenants are unconditional acceptance, engaged listening, authentic responses, getting to know your child inside and out, lightening up and finding humor, being a friend, and excavating joy…. which are absolutely beautiful and SO MUCH a part of how I parent!

Oh but that label…

I don’t want to parent according to someone else’s set of rules and guidelines. I don’t want to be bound by a label – ANY label – that can only serve to further misconceptions and prejudices, to box me in in someone’s mind, to lump me in a category with anyone else. Unschooling itself is so misunderstood – so misunderstood! – and I can’t believe that there’s any good to be had in using labels that literally mean “not parenting” when talking about it to others. It will not help people understand it, and it will only make it harder for those just trying to live their lives under the watchful eye of skeptical outsiders.

I have many friends who parent differently than I do. Friends who I respect, and friends who I admire. And while I may not always agree with all the decisions that they make – and vice-versa – I do know, without a doubt, that they love their children as fiercely as I do. I know that they would take a bullet for their kids, gladly. I know that they are good parents.

And I would hope that when they talk about me, and my own parental choices, that it’s not within the limits of a confusing and negative-sounding label like “unparenting.” I would hope that they too know, without a doubt, how fiercely I love my children. That I would take a bullet for my kids, gladly. That I am a good parent, with no labels, and no qualifiers.

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Filed under labels, parenting, unschooling