Answering a few more questions today, this time all about unschooling!
Is there ever a place for curriculum in the early years, or at all?
How do you handle extreme criticism from family about unschooling?
I’m unschooling in a strict state. How do I make sure they learn everything they need for the tests?
Got more questions for me? Send ’em here.
Filed under Q and A, unschooling, videos
The first of my Q & A videos is live! I started with chores, because it seems to be a pretty universal question. I have a lot more questions to answer in future videos, but if you have more, feel free to send ’em!
Filed under Q and A, unschooling, videos
Today was a typical unschooling day. I hesitate to use the word, “typical” (and I use it loosely) because I feel like there’s really no such thing. A typical day would depend on me, it would depend on the kids, it would depend on the season and how active we were wanting to be, it would depend on what sorts of things everyone was into at the time.
But it was a smooth day. A happy day.
Everyone slept late. There was icecream at one point. There was a “snack plate” (our home-made version of a Lunchable, with cheese and crackers and meat and fruit). There was a little bit of housekeeping and laundry washing and email answering. There was snuggling up in bed, watching iCarly, and discussing all the important things in life. There was Skypping with friends. There was reading. There was YouTube watching. There was a lot of internet research. There was trampoline jumping. There was an early evening dance class for Tegan.
It was a good day…. quiet and peaceful. I’m an introvert and a homebody, so those days are some of my very favorites.
There were however, some things that did not happen today. Things that so very many people assume are par for the course for unschoolers. I feel like the detractors always seem to come in waves, and there’s a been a heavy tide of misconceptions floating around lately (Yikes. Sorry for all the water metaphors. Totally unintentional), and I wanted to address just a few. Here then is a partial list of things that are NOT synonymous with unschooling:
No one was “left to his own devices” – People seem to have a general problem reconciling approaching education or life in any way other than the traditionally accepted format. They truly believe that if you don’t send children to school (and/or do structured “school” at home) that the children are then just all on their own, with no help, no guidance, no partners. Just yesterday someone used the word, “flounder.” That it wasn’t fair for parents to just let their kids flounder with no parental guidance. Gah. If you take nothing else from this blog post, please take this: Unschooling parents are not leaving their kids to flounder. We’re partnering with our children. We’re beside them. We’re helping them. We’re showing them. We’re answering them. We’re providing for them. We’re keeping them safe. And yes, we’re guiding them (as they walk down their own path though, not ours)
No one watched TV all day – It was turned on exactly twice. First, when I watched a couple of episodes of Friends to distract me while I was folding laundry, and later when Tegan asked me to watch an iCarly with her while she was still sleepy and waking up. Note: I wouldn’t care if they did watch TV all day, because I know that 1) it’s as valuable as anything else they may choose to do, and 2) any time they do do something literally all day, they get their fill and then move on to something else. But it very rarely happens. It’s just another option.
No one played computer games all day – Let me be clear. And honest. My kids spend a LOT of time on the computer. And it’s a good thing! This is 2015. But computers are used for so very many different things, and in so very many different ways, which is one of the reasons that I find terms like “screen time” to be so mind-numblingly frustrating. Yes, they play computer games, sometimes by themselves, but most often with others. They also answer emails. Talk to friends. Do research. Watch YouTube videos on a wide variety of topics. They read. They write. They create. The computers and the internet are huge, bottomless wells of learning. Yesterday, I overheard Everett (10 yrs) say to Tegan (not quite 7), when they were both using the computer, “Hey, how’d you learn to use an apostrophe correctly?” And she answered, “I don’t know. Mommy showed me.” I’m sure I did show her at some point, but she also learned from doing, because she wanted to be able to type with her friends while she played games. Because she wanted to be able to email with her cousins back east. Because she wanted to learn. She wanted to be part of this world we all live in.
No one was “undisciplined” or “unparented” – Everyone was safe. There were no forks in toasters, no playing in traffic, and no running with scissors. When I asked for help taking out the overflowing recyclables (my shoulder’s still not quite up to the task), they gladly did it for me. When it was time for Tegan to get ready for dance, and I asked her to wash her face and brush her teeth and hair, she did, happily. Those things just don’t happen unless they have self-discipline, and unless they have involved, invested parents.
The kids did not “run the house” – I think that people are so used to a from-the-top-down, authoritarian, “because I’m the parent and I said so” style of parenting that they mistakenly think that any alternative must mean that the kids are in charge, or that the home is “child-centric”. But it doesn’t work that way. Our home is FAMILY-centric. Our ultimate goal is to have a happy, healthy, cohesive home where everyone’s needs get met. Where everyone is respected. If something is not working (if, for example, the night owls are being too loud and infringing on the early bird’s right to a quiet, peaceful sleep environment) we address it, and we work to solve the problem in a way that’s mindful and respectful to all involved.
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And absolutely, I’m not at all saying that those things can’t or don’t happen. Sadly, they do. In unschooling homes and schooled homes alike. Permissive parents exist. Neglect exists. Abuse exists. But let’s call those isolated cases what they are. Let’s address those issues (and indeed, they do need to be addressed) rightfully on their own, and stop lumping them in with unschooling as if they were one and the same.
They’re not.
And as long as people keep insisting that they are, they’re missing out on truly understanding what unschooling (when done well, and done right) really is: in short, an absolutely beautiful and amazing and joyful way to live.
Filed under misconceptions, unschooling
I made a little video. I’ve never made a video like this (and don’t plan to do it again) but I don’t know…. I started thinking about talking about fear, and I kept seeing the words in my head as little blurbs instead of one long written-out thing.
I apologize for the unprofessional-looking video, but it was my eighth attempt and I finally decided that I was just going to believe that you’d appreciate the message and forgive the imperfections. 🙂
Filed under learning, life, parenting, trust, unschooling
Once upon a time, I decided I’d devote a day of every week to answering some of the many questions I get about unschooling and/or gentle parenting. And for a few weeks in a row, I even succeeded. But, well, life happens, and it’s been many many weeks. I’m excited to bring it back again, for however long it lasts. 🙂
This first one is from the wall on my Facebook page. Thanks, Heather! (Have questions for me? Post them there, or send me a message, and I’ll get to as many as I can)
“I am trying to wrap my mind around unschooling…how do you set goals (do you?) how do you meter growth/success…do we even need to? if my 6 yo doesn’t want to sit down and read, I just let her play? please help!”
“How do you set goals (do you?)”
My goal when it comes to my kids is to continually help and support them as they strive to reach their own goals. Everyone’s life/plans/timetable/passions are different, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to me to impose my own (arbitrary) goals on my kids. I also think it’s important to consciously ask ourselves if what we’re doing/encouraging is based on what our kids want, or based on what we as their parents want. For example, the child who loves gymnastics or soccer or figure skating at age 6 might not want to spend hours training, or in competition, or in climbing through the ranks, and that’s okay!! As a writer, I was always told I needed to go to college and major in English or journalism of some sort. I tried college…. It wasn’t the path for me. And my husband, who has a very good job working in finance, has long wished that he hadn’t listened to those who told them that his proclivity for math meant he should go into accounting, when his inclination had always been to pursue a career outdoors, working with his hands. We don’t want our kids to ever have those regrets, so their goals will always be exactly that: THEIRS.
“How do you meter growth/success…do we even need to?”
No need to formally meter anything. Just as it’s impossible for a child not to learn and grow when he or she has caring and involved parents, it’s also impossible not to SEE said learning and growth when you’re paying attention to your child. You’ll see it every day when your child is doing things he wasn’t doing the day before, asking questions she wasn’t asking the day before, interested in things he wasn’t interested in the day before, discussing things she wasn’t discussing the day before. Children are always learning, and it’s something you will see with your own eyes, every time you look at them. One of the best illustrations of this that I’ve ever read, the thing that really made it “click” for me so many years ago was the idea of thinking about knitting. If you learn to knit… whether you teach yourself, or someone else shows you how… do you give yourself a test or a quiz at the end to see if you’ve learned? No. You knit! And it’s the same way for children, whether it’s knitting or reading or baking or geometry. You’ll know they’ve learned, because you’ll see it.
“If my 6 yo doesn’t want to sit down and read, I just let her play?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Let her play at 6, let her play at 8, let her play at 16. Forcing a child to read when she needs to play (or for that matter, forcing a child to play when she wants to read) is counterproductive at best. As John Holt says, “True learning – learning that is permanent and useful, that leads to intelligent action and further learning — can arise only out of the experience, interest, and concerns of the learner” Your child, when given the proper support and attention, is the one who best knows what she needs to be learning, when, and how, and for what reasons. Natural learning isn’t always linear. It goes in fits and starts, in circles and loops, from one interest to the other. But when you step back and look at it, you’ll see that it was all interconnected all along.
Six months ago, my daughter (7 in February) wasn’t yet reading. Today she is reading, better and better each day, largely because she started playing Minecraft and other online games, and wanted to be able to chat with her friends. Her three brothers before her learned in much the same fashion – at different ages, in different ways, for different reasons – because it was important and necessary and useful to them. Looking at them now, at 10, 14, and 17, you’d never be able to tell who started reading when… and it doesn’t matter. They all can read.
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Kids know how to learn. Do they ever know how to learn. The best thing we can do as parents is to pay attention, support, encourage, engage…. and otherwise get out of their way and watch it happen.
Filed under Q and A, unschooling
Sunday, like the last day of pretty much any big event, was bittersweet. There was still flood-related scrambling on Sunday because in addition to losing a couple of rooms that were still soggy, a miscommunication had meant that a wedding was scheduled and taking place in the majority of our upstairs rooms as well. Some talks and funshops had to move rooms, and others ended up having to share space. Our white-board was full of changes. But we worked it out, and no one – at least to my knowledge – seemed to mind too much.
After taking Saturday morning off, I was so happy to teach a gentle yoga class on Sunday. It was a lovely and fitting way to start the final day.
Also on Sunday: an important circle chat from Jen Andersen about what to do instead of punishment.
The moms panel.
The dads panel.
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
Circle chats for teens… demonstrations on dread locks… classes on essential oils…
A film canister rocket funshop
Photo by Dan Omerza
Photo by Dan Omerza
Photo by Dan Omerza
My daughter’s favorite funshop, the Barbies and ponies:
Photo by Alessia Mogavero
Photo by Alessia Mogavero
A funshop all about hugging:
A mother/daughter chat about unschooling with Pam and Roya (which, by the way, was the ONLY discussion that was led by three generations of the same unschooling family :))
Photo by Chrissy Florence
And a main presentation by Allen and Laura Ellis:
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
A final word about the speakers if I may. I don’t want to sound too self-congratulatory about my choices here, but I could not have been happier with the line-up of speakers! They blew me away. The biggest goal we had when choosing the speakers was to represent as many possible viewpoints as possible, and that’s exactly what happened. I feel like they covered every perspective, assuaged every fear, addressed every concern. They were inspiring, informative, and entertaining. Pam, Roya, Erika, Tiffani, Laura, Laura, Allen, Matt, Jeff, Jen, Brian, Rachel… nailed it. TWELVE main speakers in all (even more when you count those who led single discussions, who were just as appreciated!), when we’d originally planned for seven. They were amazing, each and every one of them, and set the bar extraordinarily high.
And finally, closing out the conference was the always wonderful Amy Steinberg:
Photo by Chrissy Florence
I told this to Amy, and I will say it again here: I felt like her concert was the perfect note which with to end the conference. Her love, her positivity, her lyrics. Perfect. Amy doesn’t have any children, but she’s an unschooler at heart nonetheless. Her words capture, over and over, the very essence of how we’re trying to live and what we’re wanting to do as parents. I could not have been happier as I listened to her sing. (If you’re not familiar with her work, might I suggest you remedy that ASAP. Start with Exactly. You’re welcome)
And with that, the conference was officially over (save for the late-night drinks that followed), except… I still don’t feel like it’s over. The past couple of weeks – hearing your words, seeing your pictures, re-living the memories, strengthening the connections – has kept it all alive. I’m sure I’m not done talking about it, and I’m most definitely not done thinking about it. So I can’t wrap it up, because there IS no wrapping it up.
The bubble lives on.
God bless the unschooling bubble.
Filed under conference, unschooling
Photo by Kiera Cook
Day Three – Saturday – is at once the hardest and yet most interesting day to write about. It was the busiest of all four days, and arguably the most memorable. Besides the violent monsoon and the subsequent flooding (I’ll get to those later) it was an emotionally taxing day for me personally, so very much like my feelings, this blog post will likely be a little bit scattered and all over the place as I re-live it.
I woke up feeling terrible on Saturday, burnt out and exhausted. Recognizing that I would be crawling by the end of the conference if I didn’t do something about it, I cancelled yoga and took the extra hour to myself. Some ibuprofen, a shower, some coffee and a proper breakfast – Yay! Breakfast! – later, I was feeling a bit better, at least physically.
One of my kids was going through something difficult… something that would have been difficult under the best of circumstances, and was made almost unbearable by the conference setting. As a parent, it’s always…. well, it was difficult (yes, I just used the word “difficult” three times in four lines.) It was difficult, (4) and I share it just to give a fuller picture of where my head was at on Saturday.
So Saturday.
There was a chance of rain (Ha. Foreshadowing is great.) so we’d already planned to move the dinner inside, instead of on the pavilion. We also had the talent show to think about, and Jungle Jill, and board breaking, and air brushed tattoos. Mike also left at one point to go pick up Amy Steinberg from the airport, which left me somewhat… anxious. While he was more than content to work quietly in the background, (“This is your conference,” he kept telling me. “I’m your assistant.”) Mike and I very much worked as a team, each of us doing entirely different things. There were questions that only he could answer, and vice versa. All of that to say, whenever one of us left the hotel – which only happened a handful of times over the course of the four days – I got a little nervous.
But all was well.
The rain started when he was gone, and it wasn’t long before it was coming fast and furious, complete with the unrelenting lightning, rolling thunder, and gale-force winds that make Arizona storms so exciting.
Up until that point, everything had been going smoothly. Jeff inspired everyone by opening up a conversation about passions. Sara & Matt Janssen taught us how to become gypsies. Matt Jones talked about reconciling unschooling with a corporate life. Jen Andersen reminded us all to tune out the outside voices so we can better focus on our own kids.
My parents had come set up their air-brushed tattoos, and there was a line 10 deep. There was button making and face painting and plastic bag print-making.
Photo by Dan Omerza
Photo by Jenna Boring
Everyone seemed to enjoy Jungle Jill despite the apocalypse happening outside:
Photo by Chrissy Florence
And all the teens on the teen panel were wonderful and well-spoken:
I don’t remember where I was when the flooding happened. That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Like all those big moments in history, the ones where you always remember exactly where you were, and exactly who you were with. (Where were YOU when you heard about the flood? :-D) Anyway, I was in a lot of places, and it changed moment to moment, so I really don’t know where I was. I just know that at some point, there was flooding, and everyone that was attending anything downstairs made a mass exodus for the second floor.
Photo by Qarin Van Brink
Photo by Qarin Van Brink
In typical unschooling conference fashion, people hardly blinked. (Which is so, so interesting to me. We got complaints over much smaller things, but flooded out conference rooms? No problem!) We had to shuffle around the rest of the schedule a bit, the whole evening starting with dinner had to get pushed back an hour; and Erika’s SSUMs, Laura Flynn Endres’s main presentation, and Matt’s board breaking funshop all graciously went along with the flow. (See what I did there?)
The staff had to work harder than ever, there were some downed trees, and some definite scrambling. But no one was hurt. It was not a catastrophe. And in the end it just made for a little extra excitement.
Oh and the kids?
Photo by Jenna Boring
Photo by Heather Kennedy
Photo by Chrissy Florence
I don’t think they were too broken up about it.
And even the big empty rooms that were drying out turned out to be a great place to play:
Photo by Chrissy Florence
Once the excitement of the flooding had died down, we all gathered for the Mexican dinner. It was the first time during the conference that everyone was really in the same place at the same time, and it was a little overwhelming to me. Not in a this-is-way-too-many-people-around-my-hamster-ball-of-introversion kind of way, but in a “We did this!! We created this thing, and people are here, and they’re happy and they’re chatting and they’re eating and they’re HERE and we did this” kind of way.
340 people, all in one place.
Looking around that room during that dinner was an incredibly powerful, surreal moment for me, and it’s one I will remember above almost any other. Granted, I was physically and emotionally spent by then, someone had just given me a hard time about something, and everything was a little extra…. raw. Still, what I felt was real, and it turned out it was just a precursor for what I’d feel an hour later.
On the surface, the talent show that followed the dinner can be summed up like this: a couple of skits, dances, music, and jokes interspersed between a whole bunch of little girls’ interpretations of Frozen’s Let it Go.
Photo by Chrissy Flornence
Photo by Chrissy Florence
Photo by Jenna Boring
Beyond that though, it was So. Much. More. It was a whole roomful of people offering genuine love and support to every child who got up on that stage. It was parents encouraging – but never pushing! – their children into trying something new, and feeling their joy with them when they did it. It was people accepting and celebrating the uniqueness and beauty and perfectly imperfect quirkiness of each and every person in that room. It was people who knew they were free to…. well, free to BE. It was the whole of gentle parenting and unschooling and the conference all in that one moment.
And that’s what made me lose it.
I was admittedly on the precipice of tears the entire night, but the exact second they finally spilled over was when this lovely little girl was singing:
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
This is Tegan’s new friend, and Jennifer Andersen’s (of Our Muddy Boots) little girl. It was a big deal for her to get up there, but she did it. I looked at her, and I looked at her proud mom, and I looked at Tegan who was doing all the hand motions with her off-stage in solidarity (Let it Go is ALL about the hand motions). In that second, all the stress and the anxiety and the wondering and the worrying and the relief culminated in a sudden unstoppable rush of tears.
I was very grateful for the previous rain, because when I slipped out the door onto the walkway, it was cool and comfortable outside. There were a few kids running and laughing nearby, but it was otherwise silent and still. I stayed for but a minute, all by myself (there was too much of the evening left to totally check out) but I stayed long enough to cry, to breathe, to pull myself together, to feel gratitude…. gratitude for that moment, gratitude for the conference, and gratitude for all the people who came and made it a conference.
Until two days ago, even my husband didn’t know about that moment. In two minutes I was back in the room, and back to business as usual. And an hour later I was drinking white Russians and serenading everyone with Wrecking Ball. (Wait what?)
I share it with you now mostly because I’ve received so many really lovely comments of gratitude over the past two weeks, and I want you all to know what it all meant to me too, and what YOU all meant to me. I don’t know that I can truly put it into words, so my hope is that a glimpse into a vulnerable, private, tear-stained moment might give you some idea.
It meant the world to me, truly. And I thank you.
Filed under about me, conference, unschooling
Photo by Jenna Boring
Like Thursday, Friday started (at least for me) bright and early at 6:00. I sadly missed breakfast again, but I did get to grab some coffee before yoga. I also got to hide in the art room for almost an hour until I was called away, while I helped kids fancy up their fingernails. Bliss. I’m not exactly sure what the scheduling gurus (us) were thinking when they scheduled me to do yoga at 8 followed immediately by fingernails at 9…. but I made it work.
Friday also brought us improv instruction, string painting, bubbles, and duct tape.
Photo by Laci Omerza
Photo by Jenna Boring
It brought in-depth dad discussions with SSUDS, circle chats about relating to your teenagers, unschooling and diversity, an FAQ panel of grown unschoolers, a discussion about unschooling and parenting
Photo by Jenna Boring. We did this talk rather on the fly, but it went well! Lots of great discussion from the audience, and I had a surprisingly good time.
and main presentations by Brian Curtice
Photo by Jenna Boring.
and Tiffani Bearup
Photo by Jenna Boring
Friday night was my favorite night of Happy Hour, because the fabulous Craig Davis was warming up the crowd with his strolling magic before his show. Mike and I adore Craig Davis, but I’ll admit that there was a small amount of “Will people think this is too hokey?” And indeed, there were a couple. But he won over so many of them with this card tricks. I especially loved hearing the skeptical people squeal and laugh with … shock, maybe is the word? at some of his reveals. And yes, I know intellectually that it’s all an illusion, a slight of hand, and that it’s simply a skill that he practiced over and over and over (and he was awesome enough to give a couple of us some insider tips and even showed us how to do a simple trick). But still. Some of that “mind-reading” stuff FREAKS ME THE HECK OUT. He’s genius. He’s also a living unschooly example – even though he went to school – of someone who followed his passion and made a lifestyle out of it. He’s never supported himself in any other way than doing magic, and he clearly loves what he does. Awesome.
Photo by Jenna Boring
Photo by Jenna Boring
After Craig’s show, I actually got to hang out at the pool until they closed it down. Have I mentioned the pool yet? So much of a conference’s magic happens in and around the pool! (figurative magic, not magic magic :)) My kids logged many many hours in that pool with new and old friends. It brings people together. The connections, the play, the relaxation, the quiet late-night chats over drinks. Sometimes there’s just nothing on the planned schedule that can compete with the pool.
Photo by Heather Kennedy
Photo by Chrissy Florence
Magic.
Filed under conference, unschooling
Life is not a bubble (which, by the way, if you’ve never been to one, an unschooling conference is exactly that: a giant, 4 day, unschooling bubble) so the time since the conference has been quickly ticking away on me… one appointment, one bill, one trip to the grocery store at a time. Like most big and surreal events in my life, it exists on some other strange space-time continuum, simultaneously feeling like it just happened, and like it happened a whole lifetime ago.
In real life, it’s been two weeks. In fact, the first day was exactly two weeks ago today.
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
That’s me giving the opening welcome and announcements. This picture kind of cracks me up because I look so serious. In reality, I was giddy. Nervous. But giddy. I don’t remember what I said (though I am pretty sure I did announce “I’m so nervous”), and I know for a fact that I left out at least 65% of what I’d planned. But I got up there, and I kicked us off.
Day one was a whole lot of running around, setting up, checking in, and introductions.
I had to keep checking in with myself to confirm that the conference was actually happening… that there were real-live people there… that it was not in fact yet another pre-conference dream (I had a LOT of them, especially in the last couple weeks)
It was exciting and nerve-wracking – in the best possible way – to meet and hug and talk to so many people that until that moment I’d only known on the internet.
Day one was busy and lovely and validating.
There were ice-breaker games. There were gnomes and fairies.
Photo by Sandra Jessop
There were fantastic main presentations by Pam Sorooshian
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
Erika Davis-Pitre
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
Roya Dedeaux
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
and Jeff Sabo
Photo by Alicia Gonzalez
A little aside about the laptop in the picture with Jeff. It’s my own personal laptop (the one I’m writing on at this very minute), and it performed very well in its conference duties, despite the fact that it was essentially limping along. I dropped it a couple weeks ago – bad shoulder – and each day is bringing more and more side-effects from said drop to light. Anyway. The sticker on the right hand side was a treasured gift from my friend, Jess, that says, “Going down the road less traveled” and it made me happy to see it up there at every talk I attended. Also, I was slightly embarrassed that I hadn’t had the forethought to change my wallpaper before the conference. For those that didn’t happen to catch it when it was up on the screen: it’s a meme that resonated with me strongly that reads:
My spiritual teachers, in order of importance:
1. People who annoy the living shit out of me
2. All other spiritual teachers
A little crass perhaps, but oh so very true. Our challenges are some of our best teachers, are they not?
But I digress.
There was also parkour.
Photo by Jenna Boring
We were thrilled with the turn-out, in 102 degree heat no less!
And a dance….
That red-headed blur in the front right is Tegan, who looked so cute all dressed up for the dance (which I sadly never got a picture of), and who, like so so many other kids, completely came into her own in a whole new way during the conference.
And a teen dance.
Getting the privilege of playing DJ for the teens confirmed for me that they are truly some of my favorite people on the planet. Teens are awesome.
And through it all, there were the quieter, more important things. The things that unschooling conferences exist for:
The connections, between parents and kids, new friends and old.
The gentle examples of kind and respectful parenting.
The answered questions, the moments of “a-ha” clarity, the new nuggets of wisdom.
The joy.
I could have missed it all (and, admittedly, I missed a lot of it). I was running on adrenaline for all four days… there, but not really there…
But still, I saw. I witnessed. And it was beautiful.
Filed under conference, unschooling
One week from yesterday, we woke up bright and early at the Embassy Suites, and began the first day of our conference that was over a year in the making.
I really believed that I wouldn’t want to talk/write/or think about it for a good long while after it was over. I need to rest, I said. I need to be process, I said. Well… I do need to rest, and I do need to process. But I pretty much haven’t shut up about it yet. And it turns out that I won’t really process it until I write about it (which should not surprise me, because that’s just the way I operate.)
Without having ever done anything remotely like this before, we were going into it somewhat blindly. Still, we had put in a LOT of preparation, and I felt like we had a fairly good idea of what to expect.
I expected stressful.
I expected busy.
I expected exhausting.
I expected high highs.
I expected low lows.
And it was all of those things, but it was more… of all of it.
Stressful – This was truly one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. Someone compared it to planning a four-day wedding, and while I suppose it’s a fair comparison, I don’t like weddings and I sort of hope all my kids choose to elope. I’m kidding. (No I’m not.) All of it, from the scheduling to the decision-making to the ordering to the fire-extinguishing to the millions of little details that were all threaded together into one big elaborate web… it was more stressful than I ever could have anticipated. Was it fun and exciting? Unequivocally, YES! Oh but the stress. I couldn’t have fully appreciated it until I actually experienced it.
Busy – I envisioned myself doing a lot of running around, a lot of fetching, a lot of answering, a lot of facilitating, a lot of working. I just didn’t envision the right amount of running around, fetching, answering, facilitating, and working. I didn’t sit. I barely ate. I think I made it to the bathroom once a day. And I loved doing it! That’s what I was there for. A year’s worth of work had culminated in my doing exactly that. The level of my own personal amount of “busy” was just even higher than I’d thought. In my head, the conference would sort of run itself… and it DID, in many ways, with all the amazing speakers, prepared funshop hosts, scheduled entertainment, etc… but I wasn’t exactly in a position to sit back and enjoy it. And don’t get me wrong: I was completely happy to be doing what I was doing. Very happy. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t also make me very tired. Which leads me to:
Exhausting – Conferences in general are just exhausting. And the exhaustion that comes from hosting a conference is its own animal, for sure. I hit a wall on the morning of the 3rd day. It was 5:30, I’d slept for around 3 hours, and everything hurt. I didn’t think I could get out of bed. I cancelled yoga, took the extra time to take a shower and eat breakfast, two things I hadn’t gotten to do yet. (That’s gross. Sorry.) But I rallied. Even now, a week later, I’m still more exhausted than I’ve ever been in recent memory. I’ve been an insomniac for most of my adult life, but I have had NO trouble sleeping for the past week. I’m more or less slipping into a coma every night. I go to bed fully intending to watch a TV show or two before I go to sleep, and I wake up six hours later…. the remote still in my hand, and the TV still on its menu screen.
High highs – So this is the part where I get mushy. I want to give some specific examples in subsequent posts, but to sum it up as much as possible: I think the goal of any unschooling conference is to get connected. Refreshed. Recharged. Inspired. To gather together with your “people.” To talk to others who understand. To witness the sweetness and magic and love that is unschooling and gentle parenting. To strengthen and heal. To feel supported. To feel empowered. I saw all of that, and so. much. more. Good grief you guys. You’re incredible. I feel so, so unbelievably grateful and lucky to be a part of this awesome community. It seems cliche and almost… self-serving… to say it but I gotta: THIS is what makes it all worth it. This is what makes the stress and the exhaustion and the work all fade away. You Are Incredible. And the support and encouragement that I personally received from those of you who took the time to share your thanks, and your kind words, and your positive feedback mean more to me than you’ll ever ever know.
Low lows – Yes, there were a few. I’m a sensitive person, and an introvert, and an empath, so…. conference hosting (and blogging for that matter) was an odd choice, as I knew it would be. There were some big, big emotions. Big letdowns. Big hurts. And again, I was expecting it. But whew. I really shouldn’t have ended with this point though, because it’s the highs that “stick.” The highs that will sustain me. The highs that will remind me why I did it in the first place.
At least they will after I get caught up on sleep. 🙂 And by then I’ll have some more (happy!) tidbits and memories and favorite moments to share.
I LOVE AND THANK YOU ALL for an indescribably amazingly awesome experience for our first foray into the conference world.
Filed under conference, unschooling
I'm Jen... the shy, lost girl from the east coast who married at nineteen and eventually found herself - four kids later - in the middle of the desert. I like chocolate. You can read more about me here.
