Hey You Gu-uys!

Remember The Electric Company? It came out in the early 70s in response to a challenge the US Department of Education put out to the creators of Sesame Street: Teach kids to read on television. And for those of us who were watching TV in the early 70s, it worked! We rented The Best of The Electric Company recently. I was feeling nostalgic for the way television used to be and wanted to show my kids a bit of my childhood. Charley (age 6) watched it first. He came downstairs after about 20 minutes with a scowl on his face. "They're just trying to teach me to read, Mom. It's so boring." I was crushed. Was it really that bad? A few days passed and I still hadn't watched it, but I was curious. Macy (age 9) and I just watched a few episodes. It rocks.

I mean, who wouldn't want to have Morgan Freeman and Bill Cosby as their reading teachers? There's no question that the graphics and technology are way outdated, but the content and approach is right on.....an unschooler's paradise, really. It's funny, logical, and doesn't assume an audience of idiots. If only children's television today could be half as clever. In a 20 minute episode, Macy figured out the difference between hard and soft C sounds and the purpose of punctuation. She got the jokes and immediately tuned in to the repetitive nature of the sketches. It makes sense to me why Charley was bored by it. Although he says he wishes he could read, he totally not ready. He's far too active and physical right now to be bothered with sitting down with a book and figuring out how to decode words. Macy, on the other hand is primed and ready.

Macy began asking to learn to read about a year ago. In that time, we have sat down together on the couch with a stack of easy readers a half dozen times, so that she could practice reading to me. We only do that because she wants to. I have no other agenda except to cuddle up on the couch next to my sweet middle child and give her my full, undivided attention. A few weeks go by, I ask if she wants to read to me, and sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn't. As an unschooler, I don't believe that she needs me to do any more than that. If mAcy were in school, she would have learned to read three years ago. But at what cost? Our days without school are filled with questions and answers and investigating and exploring whatever comes our way, so it's not like we sit around and stare at the wall. We read together often throughout the day. I point out words and billboards and signs and print around us in the world all the time. There is no way my kids are not going to learn how to read. Janey (age 11) did, Macy is on her way, and no doubt, when he's ready, Charley will follow. Genius programming like The Electric Company just makes it more interesting.

I wonder if the "education experts" who wrote those first few episodes of The Electric Company had any idea how aligned their approach would be with unschooling. I'm sure they didn't. They were just meeting a challenge from the suits at the Dept. of Ed. to make learning novel and fun...imagine that? Sketch comedy, groovy music, singing, dancing. It's brilliant. Wouldn't we all want to do it, if it were fun? That's what gets me about so many people's idea of what "real" or "valuable" learning is. It can't be fun, it can't be easy or come naturally. It has to be difficult and painful, or it's not valuable. Maybe this comes from the idea that anything worth having must be hard to get. For me, the hard and difficult part only makes sense if it is something that the potential learner wants. If I want to learn to play the piano, the daily practice and difficulty of learning new pieces of music makes sense. It's something I want. Therefore, the difficulty, and the work, fits into my greater purpose: to learn to play the piano. If I don't want to learn to play the piano, it makes no sense.

Charley still thinks The Electric Company is boring. That's fine. He can do something else while we're laughing and the girls are secretly learning the rules of the English language. And maybe he'll wander in at just the right time and get something out of the program he may not have gotten another way. And maybe not. But no one is going to tell him it's time to sit down and watch and learn. He gets to decide. In the meantime, I'll re-live my childhood and giggle while much younger versions of Rita Moreno, Bill Cosby, and Morgan Freeman help me keep learning about words fun for my kids.

Community, At Last!

In my six years of calling myself an unschooler I have often felt like a bit of a freak. Even amongst many of my homeschooling friends, I have often been a bit of an outsider. No curriculum, no tests, no lessons at the kitchen table. It makes people uncomfortable. As I watched friends and neighbors dip in and out of unschooling, varieties of homeschooling, school at home, and alternative-type schools, I stayed fast. I got used to being a party of one, so to speak, and each summer anxiously awaited the HSC homeschooling conference where I was first introduced to the term unschooling and realized that what I'd believed all along actually had a name.

At the conference I am surrounded by hundreds of other homeschoolers. Parents, young children, teenagers, toddlers, babies, young adults, all homeschoolers, many of them unschoolers. It is heaven. This summer as I was driving home from the conference, I reflected on what exactly it was that made me feel so grounded at the conference. It didn't take long for me to see that it was the amazing sense of community. Sitting by the pool with other moms and dads talking about living a life without school. Asking a parent of older teenagers to tell me about what it was like for them. Listening to experienced panelists and key note speakers share how they have lived for years. Laughing, crying, living and breathing life without school. It is an awesome experience.

As I got closer and closer to home, I got sad. Where was my unschooling community? Why couldn't I experience tat sense of support and belonging right here at home? As summer turned to fall, I started talking about my desire to create an unschooling community. I was thrilled to find that others were looking for the same. One day my daughter was dropped off by another homeschooling mom. I had no idea what her particular homeschooling flavor was, but I asked, "Would you be interested in joining a homeschoolers group?" Her eyes lit up and she laughed, "I've been dying to hang out with other homeschoolers!!" We quickly discovered that we'd both been longing for the same type of support and immediately set a date for our first meeting.

I just returned from that first meeting. We met at the park. It threatened to rain, but we were bundled up and determined to get to know one another. 9 parents, 20 kids and a desire to be in community. Some were skeptical that we would be able to come up with a regular meeting time that worked for everyone. Others expressed that if we really want to form a supportive community, we may have to sacrifice other commitments in the future to make it work. Big kids played with little kids, moms and dads shared snacks and swapped stories. It was a huge success. And we did find a meeting time that works for everyone. Well, almost everyone. Stay tuned. I've think I've found my unschooling community.

Read Me on LWoS Community Blog

My first post is now up on the Life Without School Community Blog. If you're curious about How I Became an Unschooler that's the place to look. It's also a fantastic site that features many different homeschooling and unschooling perspectives, really a great read. I am now a Featured Author, and will be posting there about once a month.....hooray!

This is a Riot

You really must take 4 minutes out of your life to watch this clip. If you are a mom, or had a mom, it is well worth it.....you will laugh out loud.

I found it on a cool blog called Hip Mama/Hip Babe.

Or watch it here.

What's Your Motivation?

I had the opportunity to talk with a mom new to homeschooling today. She shared with me that the first 6 weeks have been good in lots of ways, but that she is really struggling with a few key issues. Like many new to homeschooling, they are trying to find their style. Unschooling makes sense to her, but her partner is not ready to consider it. School at home doesn't appeal to her. Her son is bright and creative and yet struggled immensely in the rigid confines of the classroom. She is ready to follow up on his personal strengths and interests and create an educational plan for him that emphasizes these interests. The problem here is that she is very attached to the success of her plan. When she puts time and thought and energy into planning a morning full of exciting, creative activities for him, she is quite disappointed when he's not interested.

We talked about the classic power struggles that she and her son engage in on a daily basis. She is very clear that school was incredibly boring to her son, so she has made a point of following his lead and keeping the focus on some of his favorite activities. Yet the power struggles continue. She knows that I am a committed unschooler. She knows that I don't require my kids to do particular activities throughout the day. But she wanted to know what I thought about unschooling some aspects of their time together and not others. As she explained their situation, I remembered something I heard a few years ago. Whenever I am struggling with how to handle a particular parenting conflict, it's important to ask myself, "What's my motivation?"

A few posts ago I shared about a time when I was harping on my kids to put away their laundry. In the beginning, I was convinced that they needed to put it away because they should be helpful and responsive when I ask them to do something. In the end I realized that this line of thinking didn't match my desire to consider their needs as important as mine. I had a need to not trip over the laundry baskets anymore. They had a need to not have to stop what they were doing in order to meet my need. My motivation (or need, in this case) was to get the baskets of laundry out of the kitchen and out of my sight. As soon as I realized that it didn't matter if they got put away right away, the kids stopped what they were doing for a moment to move the baskets to their rooms, and we all got our needs met.

I shared this with the new homeschooling mom. I suggested that she could homeschool in any way that felt authentic to her. If that meant unschooling some aspects and not others, so be it. But determining the motivation is a good way to check in to find out why we make the choices we do. I asked her to think about what her motivation was in spending time planning creative and educational activities for her son. Was it because she had a desire to spend quality time with him? Was it because she felt he should take direction from her and do what he is told? Was it because she was afraid that if she doesn't plan anything there won't be anything to do? Does she have a need that he accomplish certain tasks each day?

As the conversation progressed, she became aware of her motivations. She shared that their situation is still so new, it is hard to be clear about which path is right for them. I don't think this is the end of the story for her. They have made a radical change in their educational choices and it will take loads of time before they find the right fit. I am grateful to her for the opportunity to remind myself of this important question. Even though we have always unschooled as a family, I wasn't unschooled myself. It is taking years for me to re-learn how to parent with the principles of unschooling in mind. When faced with a parenting conflict, it helps to ask myself, "What's my motivation?"

Unschooling a Tantrum (otherwise known as, "Hitting the Wall at Mile 19")

I ran my third marathon today. I crossed the finish line exactly 8 hours ago, and I think I may never get off this couch. But laying on this couch, hydrating, and eating and resting my aching muscles has given me lots of time to think. As I've been re-living the entire 5 hours of my race multiple times in my head, I got to thinking about the parallels that exist for me between running 26.2 miles and unschooling.

The first 15 miles of the race are great. I feel full of life and excitement and strength. All those months of training and preparation pay off and I feel like I could run forever. The crowd and the cheering and the people-watching keep my mind occupied and my body goes on auto-pilot. And then, somewhere around mile 19, I hit the wall. My feet ache, my legs feel like concrete, and suddenly the cheering from the enthusiastic spectators is irritating. Those well meaning folks who shout, "You can do it, you're amazing, you're almost there," become my worst enemy. I want to throw them off a bridge. Really. My head becomes filled with negative, irrational thoughts. I can't see outside of the moment I'm in and I certainly can't remember why I put myself through this physical hell in the first place.

The funny thing is, I keep going. Something deep inside knows that if I just hang in there, something will shift and I will eventually feel better. Or maybe it's just that I know the end will come much more quickly if I keep on running. As I approach mile 23, my mood shifts. I begin to realize that the end really is near. Just a 5K, certainly I can do that. My pace quickens, my legs lose their heaviness and a smile returns to my face. I suddenly remember how much I love to run. I begin to plan my next marathon. The cheering fans are suddenly all cheering for me. I might even win this race! Nothing can stop me, and I cross the finish line, a very different person than the one I left behind at mile post 22.

Janey, my eleven year old, has a temper. There are times when she hits her wall in very much the same way. When I got to thinking about it, our experiences are really quite similar. She gets overwhelmed with intense emotion and in that intensity, perceives the world to be all wrong. She gets so caught up inside her own bad mood that she can't see that she has ever or will ever feel any other way. In that moment, life sucks and it always will. She screams, she rants, she throws a fit. Anyone in her path bears the brunt of her intensity.

There have been plenty of times that I have attempted to intervene on the premise of helping her through her tantrums. I calmly try to explain away whatever it is that has upset her. I try to distract her from her feelings. I remind her that she has been here before and it always passes. None of it works. What I have discovered, is that in order to allow her to move through her feelings in her own way, I have to get out of the way and let her unschool her tantrum. There are a few ground rules, of course. No one gets hurt. If she can stay respectful of others, we steer clear, and give her space to choose where she wants to be. If she can't, she needs to be by herself. If she needs help, she asks. And then, like magic, her feelings pass, she moves on, and as quickly as it began, the tantrum fades. Just like my magic mile 23.

I get really triggered by her tantrums. I have to remind myself that it's not about me and that her tantrums are not a reflection of my ability as a parent. The more I am able to get out of her way and allow her to move through her feelings in the way that suits her, the more she will be able to continue do so as she grows into a young woman who knows that feelings are not facts. They come as quickly as they go and they do not define us. I also realize that unlike me, she may not have to struggle with the need to suppress intense feelings out of fear. She is already learning, on her own, that she can have big, huge, intense feelings, and still be okay.

The revelation that hitting my wall mid-marathon relates so closely to my daughter's experience has given me the gift of compassion. So often, in her rage, she throws around insults and nasty comments to her siblings and myself, and it's easy for me to react. How dare she speak to us that way? What I realize now is that she just needs compassion and respect. All I have to do is bring myself back to my 4 mile slump at the end of a race and remember that this too shall pass. She's just in a funk. It won't take long, give her space, and she'll be back shortly.

A Social Studies Lesson

They've made an American Girl doll from the 70s. I asked Janey if the doll (named Julie) was wearing funny clothes and she said, "No, they pretty much look like the ones we wear today." The girls brought the new catalog into my bedroom this morning and I had to laugh out loud. Janey was right. The bell bottoms and striped turtleneck and braided belt looked pretty much like what hippies around our town are wearing today. The best part of the Julie doll, though, is her bedroom. She's got an orange shag carpet, beads hanging from the ceiling, and a little mini record player that plays 45s. The girls were envious. It's so funny to me that my childhood is now history, or historical at least, in the eyes of my children.

As we laid in bed this morning perusing the catalog together, we talked about the various times in history that the dolls are from. Samantha is from the early 1900s. Felicity is from the late 1700s. The clothing and accessories attempt to recreate what young girls' lives may have been like at the time. A Social Studies lesson, if I've ever seen one. This is what I love about unschooling. No lesson prep. No homework. No moans and groans about how boooring it all is.

Tonight at dinner, Janey explained that she wanted to drop her dance class. She likes the teacher and thinks the class is fun, but felt strongly that there are other things she would rather do during that time. The kids mentioned one or two friends that didn't have the option of choosing a class for themselves. "I don't get it," Janey commented. "Why would their parents say the had to take a particular class? What's the point?" I began to explain that some families need their kids to be occupied for certain hours of the day, and that some parents have strong feelings about the classes their children take. The look on my kids' faces were priceless. It just didn't compute. Kind of like the time we read the book about cartoon cows that unknowingly dress up like bank robbers and hold up a bank. I thought the book was hilarious (Minnie and Moo: Wanted Dead or Alive, by Denys Cazet) but the kids were confused. As soon as I clued in and realized that they didn't get the whole bank robber theme, I tried to explain the humor (wanted posters, passing the teller a note, bazookas) as we read, but it just wasn't as funny anymore. If you have no frame of reference, it doesn't make any sense.

I'm grateful that my kids have no frame of reference for compulsory education. I love that if something's not working for them they are not afraid to speak up and make a change. This is something that as an adult, I have struggled with until very recently. Later in the day, I asked Janey if she was nervous about letting her dance teacher know that she wouldn't be continuing in the class. She looked at me and snorted, "No, why would I be?" I smiled to myself. I'm learning a lot from these kids of mine.