Ban On Traditional Homeschooling Blogs

Warning: These rantings are those of my highly neurotic alter ego and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the slowly evolving, practically sane, aspiring wise woman that usually pens this blog.

This is for my own good. No more reading blogs written by traditional homeschoolers! At least not until I'm securely settled in our unschooling life. They make me worry. They make me wish I had a more pliable child. They make me think there's something wrong with me. I can't read about children that actually sit down at the kitchen table and willingly do math. Or kids that diagram sentences because they were told to. Or the ones that write essays on the destruction of Pompeii just because their mom thought it would be a good idea. It's killing me!!!

My life would be so much simpler if I were following the clearly marked, well-trodden path of traditional "school at home" homeschoolers. None of this life altering, paradigm shifting, living outside the box stuff. Of course, I could only take that path if my son was willing to follow along--not much sense in going down the traditional path without the student. And I'd really only want to take that path if we could walk along together enjoying the scenery, laughing along the way. It wouldn't be a pleasant trip if I had to throw Jerry over my shoulder and lug him along the trail.

Okay. Deep breath. That's better. It's me again. Sorry. I just had to get that off my chest. It's just that I've been reading this terrific homeschooling blog and it was giving me serious blog/children/life envy. I think I'm having a moment (or couple days, actually) of weakness because of yesterdays dinner table conversation.

Perhaps a little reminder is in order. Why did I chose unschooling in the first place?
1. It suits my son better than any method of education I know.
2. It makes a lot of sense to learn about things that interest you and I think those things are more likely to be remembered.
3. I want my son to love learning. I don't want him to be so sick of it by the time he's 18 that he doesn't want to open another book.
4. Our relationship could never survive traditional homeschooling because my son is just like me--he doesn't like to be told what to do.
5. Unschooling allows us to focus on joyful living. Learning comes naturally out of joyful living. Why force something when it can happen naturally?
6. I believe unschooling is the best preparation for life-long learning.

Okay. I feel better now. Phew. I was breaking my very own first rule of Unschooling: "Don't assume that what works for one family will work for my own." Actually, I guess I was WISHING that what works for one family would work for my own, which is different different from assuming. Still, it's not a good thing.

If my son were the type of kid that would let me teach him the traditional way I would probably still be happily planning lessons, creating curricula and correcting math sheets. (I say still as if that lasted for more than three days! Ha!) But, one of the things I appreciate about this unschooling journey is that it has made me question my motives and philosophies. And that questioning has energized me. It's not so easy to change paths. Thankfully I'm being guided by those of you who have trod the unschooling trail before me. If I didn't have your footprints to follow I'd be lost.

Thanks.

A Slippery Slope

I'm beginning to notice a pattern here. The day after I publish a post in which I write about how things are going great, how I'm really getting the hang of this unschooling thing, how I'm cruising along giddily close to "euphoria," I end up back at "crap." Thankfully the crap episodes seem to be getting shorter as I catch myself behaving schoolishly, or unreasonably, or being a control freak, or all of the above, faster and faster each time.

Yesterday I decided to have a talk with Jerry. That probably should have sent up a red flag--my "talks" rarely have positive results. But I was determined to discuss tactics for making his dad feel better about our schooling. In other words, his dad would like to see more Learning going on and I wanted to talk about how we might make some happen. So, I asked Jerry what he'd like to learn about.

Jerry was not particularly interested in this conversation, but he said we could try learning some Rapid Math Tricks using a book of the same name. He agreed to a few more things but in truth I don't think he was very interested in any of it. I decided (another red flag should have gone up there!) that we should start today. We tried the first lesson but I wasn't even half way through it before Jerry was sighing heavily and exhibiting the same behavior as he did on that fateful day of the "math incident"--our last day of school-at-home.

I found myself getting angry so I took a deep breath and went into the other room. I busied myself with other things until the math lesson didn't seem so important anymore. Thankfully it didn't take long.

I figure the fact that the episode was over so quickly is a sign of progress, but I do wonder how in the heck I'm supposed to balance my husband's need to see some Learning going on with my (and Jerry's) desire to unschool.

Suggestions anyone?

A Letter From A Mother To Her Son

Dear Jerry,

I'm such a dummy. I've been telling you that you should be charge of determining the right amount of video game time for yourself, that you should be able to regulate that amount on your own, and then when your view of enough doesn't match up with my view of enough I get angry and snap at you for no good reason. I'm sorry. Please forgive me--I'm still learning.

I know it's not fair for me to say I'm letting you make your own choices and then get mad at you for making them. The other day, when you said that I was giving you too much responsibility and that it was too much pressure, I think you might have been feeling me pressuring you to bend to my will, rather than feeling the pressure of making that decision. You said you didn't think you could be in charge of regulating your own video game time, but I think you're wrong. I think you are quite capable of determining the right amount of time for yourself to play video games. The only problem is, I'm pretty sure what's right for you will be way too much for me.

I have to admit something. I'm prejudice against video games. I know there are things you're learning from them. I know you're being creative and solving problems and I know playing video games makes you really happy. I've been trying to tell myself it's okay for you to play a lot, but my prejudice is getting in the way. It's making me cranky.

So, here's my solution:

During the week, let's have no video games until after 4 p.m. That way we can do other things during the day. We can branch out, see the world, play some games, explore interesting subjects and hopefully end each day with a deeper understanding of our universe. Once we've done that I don't think the video games will bother me so much.

I'm sorry I had you doubting your ability to chose what's best for you. You're quite capable of making that choice. I'm just not quite capable of giving it to you yet.

Thanks for understanding. I love you.

Mom

Rule One

This whole unschooling thing is bringing me face to face with some of the less pleasant sides of my personality. Today I saw the control freak side of myself rear its ugly head. It took some serious self-control to keep the beast down but cool and calm won out in the end. Here's how it happened:

J suggested going to the downtown library today. "Great!" I thought, "He's really starting to take the reins!" But what section do you suppose he wanted to visit first? The video section. I was okay, though. The control freak side of me was still hibernating. We browsed the anime. J chose a couple DVDs, then, at my suggestion, we looked through the drawing books. I chose one on 3-D animation, because we spent a better part of this past Sunday in the 3-D animation studio at Zeum in San Francisco. J wasn't too inspired but he didn't say no, so I added it to the pile.

Next, we went to the fiction section. I looked up "Johnny Tremain" because I had decided J needed to read more classics. J had other ideas. He was not so keen on this book and said he wouldn't read it, nor would he listen to me read it. The beast began to stir. Instead of insisting we read the book, though, I took a few deep breaths and added it to my pile. "We'll see," I said, imagining J tied to a chair, trying not to listen, while I read "Johnny Tremain" outloud. I think it's pretty safe to say this is not a picture of unschooling harmony.

The big mistake here was my reason for wanting J to read more classics in the first place. I had just finished reading Mary Hood's "The Relaxed Home School" in which Hood states that when her children have read a few too many uninspiring books, she suggests they look to the classics for their next selection. She never says her children happily accept this suggestion each and every time, but I can read between the lines. I know very well that other people's children do exactly as they're told. Mary Hood tells her children to read "Johnny Tremain" and they frolic to the book shelf, finishing page one before she has taken her next breath.

Even if this is the case (and, honestly, I doubt it), I now understand what a huge mistake it is to take what works for one family and assume it will work for my own. That, right there, is my first rule of unschooling. Here, I'll put it in caps for you:

RULE ONE: DON'T ASSUME THAT WHAT WORKS FOR ONE FAMILY WILL WORK FOR MY OWN.

I've only been at this for three weeks and I can already offer my first piece of helpful advice. I'm learning. Yippee!

The postscript to this scenario is a happy one--much more in line with that image of unschooling harmony than the "Johnny Tremain" scene. Back at the library, with no prompting from me, J started looking up books about volcanoes and Mt. Vesuvius, then chose a couple to take home. After checking out our books and DVDs we went across the street to a cafe where we ate cookies and read about volcanoes and plate tectonics. When we got home we started our Mt. Vesuvius model. It was fun, educational, and completely initiated by my son.

So, even though I felt J was being extremely uncooperative and I imagined myself tying him to a chair for his bedtime story, I managed to hold my tongue and follow his lead. Much to my surprise he walked straight into the picture of unschooling harmony. Thankfully, I had the good sense to follow.