When it was time for our oldest child to start high school, I played devil's advocate. I told her every wonderful thing about high school that I could think of. We discussed it a lot. She thought about it. And in the end she decided, to my great joy and immediate terror, that she wanted to continue homeschooling.
Her reason for that decision dovetails nicely with topic of my post. She knew that if she went to high school she would have lots of homework for classes that she wasn't even interested in and that this would cut into her time for the two things she really was interested in: playing the piano and reading.
She didn't want to be well-rounded. None of my children are particularly well-rounded. And I'm okay with that.
A friend recently linked to a blog post titled The argument against raising well-rounded kids. That piece is responsible for this post. Although that blogger is more career-focused and sees encouraging kids to focus on their strengths largely as a tool to build a more successful career, while I see it more as a means to live a satisfying and fulfilled life, I still found much in her piece that struck a chord.
I grew up well-rounded. I went to school and did well in all subjects. I played sports, and was mediocre or worse in all of them that I tried. I took piano for years, having neither the talent or passion to be good. I also took lessons in other instruments, voice, dance and gymnastics--for which my body could not have been less suited--even roller skating. Bless my mother's sweet heart, she was trying to find something that I was good at, something that would make my slightly chubby, bookish self happy. And I was, too.
Even though I already knew what made me happy. Reading. Writing . Playing with my friends. Reading some more. And more. And more. Writing letters to my friends and pen pals. And reading some more.
But what made me happy wasn't really an acceptable pursuit. Being smart, loving words, and loving to play with words wasn't enough. It wasn't a talent. So we searched. And when I hit high school I did what I was told to be the well rounded college prep student. I took math, even doubling up my sophomore year on Algebra 2 and Geometry to leave room for Calculus my senior year. I took Biology, Chemistry, Advanced Chemistry, and Physics. Because I was jumping through the college prep hoops, I couldn't fit in world history, which I would have loved, although I did get to take a one-semester philosophy class that is still one of my most memorable classes ever. Fortunately for me, English was required, and we had an excellent English department. I got to read real literature and quite a bit of it. I got up very early my freshman year to go to swim practice, because well-rounded people did sports. After three years of high school, I still had people pressuring me to go
into engineering because that's what smart people should do. Why would I
want to be a writer?
My senior year I finally rebelled. I had had good grades and was near the top of my class. I had the highest PSAT scores in the history of my school; getting into college and even getting money wasn't going to be a problem. I took English and government. I was editor of the yearbook. I dropped physics after one semester and I decided not to take calculus. I was a class officer. I read books, wrote, and spent a lot of time hanging out with my friends and my then-boyfriend, now-husband.
In college, I crashed and burned rather spectacularly. Nothing I wanted to do was practical. What was the point? I was lonely. I was removed from any support for my faith. I changed majors so many times that even I have lost count. I changed schools several times.
But what if from the age of 14 on I had been able to focus on what I was good at and what I was interested in? Would I be this person who still, at almost 50, doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up? Would I be this person who can do lots of things, but as I seem to have been reminded frequently in recent weeks, none very well? And once a person, especially someone as ADD as I am gets in the habit of dabbling, can they get out?
My kids aren't well-rounded. I am glad. Bethany immersed herself in her books and music. She went to college to major in history and minor in music. She dropped the music minor after a while because it was too time-intensive, and she really doesn't enjoy performing, but she still gets a great deal of joy from her piano. She got perfect grades, aside from one B+, and could have gone on to grad school almost anywhere, but knew herself well enough to know that that wasn't really what she wanted. Now she's busy being a fabulous, happy, wife and mother.
Patrick is a reader and wordsmith. He is majoring in history and German with stellar grades. (One B+ there, too.) His depth and breadth of historical knowledge astounds me. His writing reflects the fact that growing up he immersed himself in good books. Whatever he decides to do he will do well, because he knows his own mind and is comfortable with who he is.
Jonathan is a singer. His teen years had the minimum of academic work necessary for college admission, but he sang with multiple choirs, took voice, and was in several productions with various groups, including two at the same time. He never could have done this if he were in school. He is not well-rounded. He is focused.
Andrew is the most like me in personality. Gregarious and out-going, he needs his social time, but he has also found his strength. He is skilled at, and enjoys, languages. He has learned Koine Greek well enough to help teach it. He has learned some Latin and German and intends to learn more. He is also very industrious and has had his first job for over a year and has now added a second. Both of his jobs are in the service industry, allowing him to use and hone his people skills and to socialize while at work.
Of course all kids need to be taught to read and write at a functional level. All kids need survival math. (If we taught math as a life skill it would go better, but that's another post.) But we do young people--and our society--a disservice by emphasizing well-roundedness, standards, college preparation, etc. We would all be much better off if from, about the time they hit double digits, we let our kids follow their passions and quit trying to shove them all into a few neatly labelled boxes.
Showing posts with label Unschooling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unschooling. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The post that must be made
If you're part of the homeschool community you have probably heard by now of the hatchet job Good Morning America did on unschooling. If you haven't seen it, you aren't missing much. It was of the low quality that we have come to expect from the mainstream media. Of course unschoolers have, as you would expect, reacted with all kinds of posts about, and defenses of, unschooling.
I have heard that GMA did a bit of a backpedal show the next day, but I have no desire to see it, so I won't address it here. And since I just wrote four posts last month more-or-less about unschooling, I am not going back over all of that ground.
There is one thing, though, that I keep seeing in attack after attack that I felt the need to address. I quote from the Sun-Times piece:
"In contrast "unschooling" means no textbooks, no curriculum, no tests, no grades."
Um. No. Not even close.
Maybe, in some families, but certainly not in all. In many, like ours,especially as our children get closer to adulthood, they choose to use textbooks. Our sons have chosen to use some curriculum. They have chosen to take some classes in which they are tested and graded. This has all been their choice in pursuit of their goals and interests. My two oldest took the SAT. Last time I checked that "T" stands for "test."
The knee-jerk negativity to the outside-the-boxness that is unschooling is not surprising. But you'd think that if people are going to criticize they would at least get their facts straight.
I have heard that GMA did a bit of a backpedal show the next day, but I have no desire to see it, so I won't address it here. And since I just wrote four posts last month more-or-less about unschooling, I am not going back over all of that ground.
There is one thing, though, that I keep seeing in attack after attack that I felt the need to address. I quote from the Sun-Times piece:
"In contrast "unschooling" means no textbooks, no curriculum, no tests, no grades."
Um. No. Not even close.
Maybe, in some families, but certainly not in all. In many, like ours,especially as our children get closer to adulthood, they choose to use textbooks. Our sons have chosen to use some curriculum. They have chosen to take some classes in which they are tested and graded. This has all been their choice in pursuit of their goals and interests. My two oldest took the SAT. Last time I checked that "T" stands for "test."
The knee-jerk negativity to the outside-the-boxness that is unschooling is not surprising. But you'd think that if people are going to criticize they would at least get their facts straight.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
One more unschooling post
"Is it really possible for kids to grow up to be doctors or lawyers or brain surgeons if they do not learn in scheduled/controlled ways?"
This is a question lifted from a Facebook conversation. I decided that the answer needed to be a blog post, because it was getting too long. Besides, Facebook conversations are fleeting things, and this question is not unusual.
The short answer is yes. If that is what they want to do.
I have four kids, 14-23. When my kids were younger, I used to worry about things like this. I used to worry that they wouldn't get up to an alarm. That they wouldn't be able to function in class. (I'm not going to rehash our unschooling style in this post. There are some glimpses in the past four posts. Or here on my homeschooling blog.)
My first reassurances came in the forms of my friend Susan's kids. A few years older than my oldest, they had been unschooled and were doing well in the world of work and college. That helped. As my own kids got older, I saw them each developing interests, devouring books, getting out of bed early on cold mornings for choirs, classes, and other commitments.
When Bethany could see the SAT looming, she buckled down and did two years of math in a few months. She got awesome SAT scores and a full academic scholarship. She went to classes, worked hard, had a part-time job, sang in a couple of choirs, taught piano, and graduated with a 3.98 GPA with a major in history and a minor in English. This is a girl who was unschooled from fourth grade on. She devoured books, played with her brothers, watched movies, and played piano. That was pretty much her life for nine years. After graduation she was debating grad school options, but really wanted a break. Because of her writing skills, the history department let her know about a paralegal job that was available, which she applied for, and got.
She could easily choose to become a lawyer. Her grades, skills, and work ethic would get her there, no problem. She's not likely to choose that path, however, because what she really wants is a nice Lutheran husband and family. :)
Oldest son, about whom you can read in my old blog posts was our second graduate. He was our reason for homeschooling. He was a delayed reader and has sensory integration issues. He is now a college freshman majoring in history, pre-law, with a 4.0 thus far.
Both of them are FAR more disciplined in their studies than I was my first time in college. I left high school having graduated 10th out of something in the vicinity of 400, with all of the requisite activities and honors. I had spent my entire school life succeeding in the system, and yet I crashed and burned fairly spectacularly in my first shot at college.
Our 16 yo--who has never known anything but unschooling--gets himself up every Sunday at 6:30 so that he can go acolyte at our early service. This has never been required of him. He chooses it. He sings with the Bach Collegium, just finished 10 weeks rehearsing for 3-4 hours a night and performing Joseph with the Fort Wayne Civic Theater, and this week winds up 12 weeks rehearsing for The Sound of Music with a local high school. He will graduate from high school knowing as much or more Biblical Greek as students at the seminary, and because we haven't been hung up on a school schedule he has attended many theological conferences with our pastor or at our church. Next year as a senior he plans to take a college class or two, just to get used to it and because they can also count on his high school transcript. He plans to become a pastor.
Our 14 yo may just become a doctor. Or he may be an entrepreneur. Or a professor. He really isn't sure yet. He had no interest in anything even resembling academics until he was 12. He didn't even like to read. The rest of my kids have been readers, so that worried me. I needn't have worried. He reads like crazy now and doesn't like to leave the house without a book, his Latin or his Greek, and his algebra. He probably spent more hours watching musicals and playing with legos than any child in history. He will probably start college classes his junior or senior year of high school, but that will be up to him.
I have normal kids. They are all definitely smart, but they aren't prodigies. They are just as stubborn and lazy as any kids on the planet. They did spend most of their childhoods doing pretty much what they wanted, except when I would make them help clean. But unschooling hasn't kept any of them from achieving anything, and I believe that it has helped them by allowing them to develop their strengths and interests and learn self-motivation.
More from the questioner: "I want my children to be driven, motivated, curious, and smart. I want them to be able to argue, debate, and win!"
You just described my kids. :) Seriously, much of that is parenting, no matter how you choose to school them. I believe that unschooling is more likely to produce curious, motivated kids if that is what the kids see in their parent's lives. Our kids have been surrounded by books and ideas. Our life is often one protracted discussion. I always made an effort to make connections between things--history, literature, current events, movies--so that the kids would grow up looking for connections. The kids used to watch me talk back to the TV, arguing with the news people or questioning the commercials. Now they do it, too.
This is a question lifted from a Facebook conversation. I decided that the answer needed to be a blog post, because it was getting too long. Besides, Facebook conversations are fleeting things, and this question is not unusual.
The short answer is yes. If that is what they want to do.
I have four kids, 14-23. When my kids were younger, I used to worry about things like this. I used to worry that they wouldn't get up to an alarm. That they wouldn't be able to function in class. (I'm not going to rehash our unschooling style in this post. There are some glimpses in the past four posts. Or here on my homeschooling blog.)
My first reassurances came in the forms of my friend Susan's kids. A few years older than my oldest, they had been unschooled and were doing well in the world of work and college. That helped. As my own kids got older, I saw them each developing interests, devouring books, getting out of bed early on cold mornings for choirs, classes, and other commitments.
When Bethany could see the SAT looming, she buckled down and did two years of math in a few months. She got awesome SAT scores and a full academic scholarship. She went to classes, worked hard, had a part-time job, sang in a couple of choirs, taught piano, and graduated with a 3.98 GPA with a major in history and a minor in English. This is a girl who was unschooled from fourth grade on. She devoured books, played with her brothers, watched movies, and played piano. That was pretty much her life for nine years. After graduation she was debating grad school options, but really wanted a break. Because of her writing skills, the history department let her know about a paralegal job that was available, which she applied for, and got.
She could easily choose to become a lawyer. Her grades, skills, and work ethic would get her there, no problem. She's not likely to choose that path, however, because what she really wants is a nice Lutheran husband and family. :)
Oldest son, about whom you can read in my old blog posts was our second graduate. He was our reason for homeschooling. He was a delayed reader and has sensory integration issues. He is now a college freshman majoring in history, pre-law, with a 4.0 thus far.
Both of them are FAR more disciplined in their studies than I was my first time in college. I left high school having graduated 10th out of something in the vicinity of 400, with all of the requisite activities and honors. I had spent my entire school life succeeding in the system, and yet I crashed and burned fairly spectacularly in my first shot at college.
Our 16 yo--who has never known anything but unschooling--gets himself up every Sunday at 6:30 so that he can go acolyte at our early service. This has never been required of him. He chooses it. He sings with the Bach Collegium, just finished 10 weeks rehearsing for 3-4 hours a night and performing Joseph with the Fort Wayne Civic Theater, and this week winds up 12 weeks rehearsing for The Sound of Music with a local high school. He will graduate from high school knowing as much or more Biblical Greek as students at the seminary, and because we haven't been hung up on a school schedule he has attended many theological conferences with our pastor or at our church. Next year as a senior he plans to take a college class or two, just to get used to it and because they can also count on his high school transcript. He plans to become a pastor.
Our 14 yo may just become a doctor. Or he may be an entrepreneur. Or a professor. He really isn't sure yet. He had no interest in anything even resembling academics until he was 12. He didn't even like to read. The rest of my kids have been readers, so that worried me. I needn't have worried. He reads like crazy now and doesn't like to leave the house without a book, his Latin or his Greek, and his algebra. He probably spent more hours watching musicals and playing with legos than any child in history. He will probably start college classes his junior or senior year of high school, but that will be up to him.
I have normal kids. They are all definitely smart, but they aren't prodigies. They are just as stubborn and lazy as any kids on the planet. They did spend most of their childhoods doing pretty much what they wanted, except when I would make them help clean. But unschooling hasn't kept any of them from achieving anything, and I believe that it has helped them by allowing them to develop their strengths and interests and learn self-motivation.
More from the questioner: "I want my children to be driven, motivated, curious, and smart. I want them to be able to argue, debate, and win!"
You just described my kids. :) Seriously, much of that is parenting, no matter how you choose to school them. I believe that unschooling is more likely to produce curious, motivated kids if that is what the kids see in their parent's lives. Our kids have been surrounded by books and ideas. Our life is often one protracted discussion. I always made an effort to make connections between things--history, literature, current events, movies--so that the kids would grow up looking for connections. The kids used to watch me talk back to the TV, arguing with the news people or questioning the commercials. Now they do it, too.
Style
One of the ideas that Gatto mentioned that has really tickled my brain is that of "style." It was in the context of communication ability and how connections and associations provide opportunities.
He talked about how freedom and play lead to the development of individual style, and that a distinctive style is priceless. My immediate reaction was to think about my oldest son, not to the exclusion of the others, but because he has such a strong personal style. My thoughts then wandered through each of my own children and on to some of those of my friends. They each have it. They each have a uniqueness of expression that comes out in myriad ways: speech, writing, dress, interests, hobbies, musical preferences, college and career choices, and more. They are all comfortable in their own skins.
What a gift! I don't think I achieved any level of comfort in my skin, any real personal style, until I was in my mid-30's. My daughter's writing as a college freshmen showed an ease of expression that all of my fevered attempts couldn't achieve. My 16 year old wears a hat--not a baseball cap--and wears it with panache and proper etiquette, because it brings him joy.
Because part of my eldest son's personal style is a level of good manners seldom seen in most adult men today, he makes friends everywhere he goes. And it has rubbed off on his brothers--another post is coming...--which has helped them to make connections of many sorts, all of which enrich their lives in some way.
School squelches style. That's part of its job. You see it in the appearance of the girls going into freshman composition classes on a college campus: droves of straightened bleached hair, make up, tight jeans, tight t-shirts, flip-flops, slouched shoulders and a shuffling flip-flop walk. You hear it in the conversations. Those who dare maintain their own style in high school are usually the outcasts of one sort or another.
I loved Gatto's idea that style comes from play. I see it. In each of my kids I see echoes of their amusements in their personal styles. I see echoes of the world of Dyger, created by them when they were littles. I see and hear the influences of Jane Austen, Tolkein, and Dr. Seuss. I notice echoes of Darkwing Duck, Barbies & Legos, and the Zoombinis. I see Haydn and Beethoven and Clementi and Rush and Boston and Joseph's Dreamcoat and Les Miserables. And in their movements I see hours of soccer.
It makes me glad that my kids have had lots of freedom. And that's another post.
He talked about how freedom and play lead to the development of individual style, and that a distinctive style is priceless. My immediate reaction was to think about my oldest son, not to the exclusion of the others, but because he has such a strong personal style. My thoughts then wandered through each of my own children and on to some of those of my friends. They each have it. They each have a uniqueness of expression that comes out in myriad ways: speech, writing, dress, interests, hobbies, musical preferences, college and career choices, and more. They are all comfortable in their own skins.
What a gift! I don't think I achieved any level of comfort in my skin, any real personal style, until I was in my mid-30's. My daughter's writing as a college freshmen showed an ease of expression that all of my fevered attempts couldn't achieve. My 16 year old wears a hat--not a baseball cap--and wears it with panache and proper etiquette, because it brings him joy.
Because part of my eldest son's personal style is a level of good manners seldom seen in most adult men today, he makes friends everywhere he goes. And it has rubbed off on his brothers--another post is coming...--which has helped them to make connections of many sorts, all of which enrich their lives in some way.
School squelches style. That's part of its job. You see it in the appearance of the girls going into freshman composition classes on a college campus: droves of straightened bleached hair, make up, tight jeans, tight t-shirts, flip-flops, slouched shoulders and a shuffling flip-flop walk. You hear it in the conversations. Those who dare maintain their own style in high school are usually the outcasts of one sort or another.
I loved Gatto's idea that style comes from play. I see it. In each of my kids I see echoes of their amusements in their personal styles. I see echoes of the world of Dyger, created by them when they were littles. I see and hear the influences of Jane Austen, Tolkein, and Dr. Seuss. I notice echoes of Darkwing Duck, Barbies & Legos, and the Zoombinis. I see Haydn and Beethoven and Clementi and Rush and Boston and Joseph's Dreamcoat and Les Miserables. And in their movements I see hours of soccer.
It makes me glad that my kids have had lots of freedom. And that's another post.
Why unschooling?
I had a new experience on Friday. After 14 years of homeschooling, and 12 as a committed unschooler--the first two were spent trying to figure out what we were doing--I was in a situation where being an unschooler was applauded. Wow. John Taylor Gatto, former New York Teacher of the Year, was applauding unschooling parents.
That felt good.
I've spent years feeling like I needed to defend what I was doing with my kids. Even as our results have proved that unschooling works, I have experienced a doubling-down of criticism, especially from other homeschoolers. I've never asked for atta-girls, or pats on the back; so I was stunned by how nice it was to get that unsolicited affirmation.
Gatto said some other things that really resonated with me:
We live with "a palette of unexamined assumptions" including the idea that "lurking behind anything worthwhile is standardized tests, GPAs and college." These assumptions have "allowed us to become our own jailers." Wow, again. This is so true, and echoes many of the conversations that I've had in the past few years with people who think about education. Gatto pointed out that it is still true that many highly successful people--names everyone knows: Gates, Jobs, Dell, to name but a few--didn't go to college or dropped out.
We have come to value credentials over learning, and hoop-jumping over knowledge and understanding. And it is imprisoning millions in a cycle of under-achieving when they don't measure up and student loan debt when they do.
The way to break out: "There has to be a substantial amount of your educational program that only fits you." This is the key to unschooling. It is absolutely personalized. And it cannot be done in institutional school. It is not what institutional schooling is for. That has a different purpose.
This doesn't preclude college. In fact, so far both of my unschooled high school graduates have chosen to attend college, because it fits them. Both have chosen to be history majors, one added a minor in English, the other is considering German and political science as possible minors. But that is another post.
I think Gatto's quote also challenges us to consider what is "worthwhile." Our society seems to consider only material or career success as worthy of pursuit. I would argue that there are other pursuits equally worthwhile, which do not depend on tests and GPAs. Parenting, growing food, and working with the hands come to mind, as a beginning.
That felt good.
I've spent years feeling like I needed to defend what I was doing with my kids. Even as our results have proved that unschooling works, I have experienced a doubling-down of criticism, especially from other homeschoolers. I've never asked for atta-girls, or pats on the back; so I was stunned by how nice it was to get that unsolicited affirmation.
Gatto said some other things that really resonated with me:
We live with "a palette of unexamined assumptions" including the idea that "lurking behind anything worthwhile is standardized tests, GPAs and college." These assumptions have "allowed us to become our own jailers." Wow, again. This is so true, and echoes many of the conversations that I've had in the past few years with people who think about education. Gatto pointed out that it is still true that many highly successful people--names everyone knows: Gates, Jobs, Dell, to name but a few--didn't go to college or dropped out.
We have come to value credentials over learning, and hoop-jumping over knowledge and understanding. And it is imprisoning millions in a cycle of under-achieving when they don't measure up and student loan debt when they do.
The way to break out: "There has to be a substantial amount of your educational program that only fits you." This is the key to unschooling. It is absolutely personalized. And it cannot be done in institutional school. It is not what institutional schooling is for. That has a different purpose.
This doesn't preclude college. In fact, so far both of my unschooled high school graduates have chosen to attend college, because it fits them. Both have chosen to be history majors, one added a minor in English, the other is considering German and political science as possible minors. But that is another post.
I think Gatto's quote also challenges us to consider what is "worthwhile." Our society seems to consider only material or career success as worthy of pursuit. I would argue that there are other pursuits equally worthwhile, which do not depend on tests and GPAs. Parenting, growing food, and working with the hands come to mind, as a beginning.
Gatto
Almost exactly a year ago, I posted some thoughts that I had upon reading John Taylor Gatto's Weapons of Mass Instruction. Gatto has long helped bolster the "why" of our homeschool adventure. Last weekend I had the opportunity to attend a homeschool conference where he was speaking. The session was way too short, but I did glean a lot from his talk. I think it's going to make its way into a number of blog posts.
If you are a fan of conventional, institutional schooling, I'll again warn that you may not like what I'm going to say. I used to be a fan, but not any more. Gatto has done copious amounts of research into the history and background of American education. His many years as a teacher in public schools gave him a front row seat.
So what's the bottom line? Our government schools exist for the express purposes of destroying the imagination, weakening family ties, and separating children from their parents. They exist to create willing, unquestioning workers and consumers. Learning is incidental.
This is the background. The next few posts will include things that Gatto said and things that I've been thinking, and how they have connected.
Added: My friend Cheryl has some thoughts on Gatto, his book, and schools.
If you are a fan of conventional, institutional schooling, I'll again warn that you may not like what I'm going to say. I used to be a fan, but not any more. Gatto has done copious amounts of research into the history and background of American education. His many years as a teacher in public schools gave him a front row seat.
So what's the bottom line? Our government schools exist for the express purposes of destroying the imagination, weakening family ties, and separating children from their parents. They exist to create willing, unquestioning workers and consumers. Learning is incidental.
This is the background. The next few posts will include things that Gatto said and things that I've been thinking, and how they have connected.
Added: My friend Cheryl has some thoughts on Gatto, his book, and schools.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The good old days
I'm feeling a bit nostalgic right now. As the new school year starts all around us, and I prepare to send a second child to college, I'm missing the days when I had four kids at home. There's nothing much more fun than being the unschooling mom of a bunch of curious kids.
I miss the "field trips" to the state park or forest preserve. (I put field trips in quotation marks because it wasn't anything organized. In the fall, especially, our life was one big field trip.) Taking two teens to walk at the park isn't nearly as entertaining as taking a crew of 4, 6, 9, & 13.
Don't get me wrong. There are wonderful things about this stage, too. I love to spend time with my grown and nearly-grown children. I'm sure that the excitement when Andrew has his braces removed next week will be something to remember. We have much deeper discussions than we could before, and each of them can cook dinner in a pinch.
But with the approach of fall, I hear echoes of those little voices, and would love--just for a moment--to go back and do it again.
I miss the "field trips" to the state park or forest preserve. (I put field trips in quotation marks because it wasn't anything organized. In the fall, especially, our life was one big field trip.) Taking two teens to walk at the park isn't nearly as entertaining as taking a crew of 4, 6, 9, & 13.
Don't get me wrong. There are wonderful things about this stage, too. I love to spend time with my grown and nearly-grown children. I'm sure that the excitement when Andrew has his braces removed next week will be something to remember. We have much deeper discussions than we could before, and each of them can cook dinner in a pinch.
But with the approach of fall, I hear echoes of those little voices, and would love--just for a moment--to go back and do it again.
Monday, August 10, 2009
What kind of education is that?
I've been having all kinds of thoughts about education bounce around in my head after our Wisdom and Eloquence Retreat last week. The main speaker is a professor of Rhetoric, and a big proponent of Classical Education as the best way to educate children.
I have never aspired to be a classical educator. I own a copy of The Well-Trained Mind, but it sits, unmolested, on a shelf in my family room, from whence it shall--someday--join the ranks of those books destined for the used book store. I may read it first, but I'm waiting until the kids are all finished homeschooling.
I have, however, been privy to enough conversations about classical ed and read enough blog posts and articles to be familiar with the concepts. I have learned that classical educators--like radical unschoolers--jealously guard their turf. (We are and you're not, so don't even pretend you may overlap.)
All that said, as one of my more unschooly friends and I listened to Dr. Classical Ed last week, we were both struck by how much the process, the tools, the very structure of classical education mirrors the de facto way our unschooled children have learned. You would think that classical educators would like this affirmation that, yes, this is naturally the way children's minds work at these stages. But they don't. Not from us.
Like classical ed, we reject the boxing into subjects that progressive education insists upon. We agree that knowledge is interconnected. As is suggested in TWTM, we have always used history as a framework for "hanging" our knowledge. We have not taken the organized, cranked down approach suggested by classical ed, but we've gotten to the same desired place, with our children ready to join in the Great Conversation.
Am I saying we are classical educators? Certainly not! I gladly wear my badge of mostly unschooly-ish-ness. It keeps me sane and my children happy. And I'm also not arguing for the superiority of any one way of doing things. My philosophy is that each family needs to determine what works for them.
But if your end desire is kids who know things, can think critically, and can speak and write clearly about what they know, from a basis of the great tradition of the western world, well, there's more than one way to get there.
I have never aspired to be a classical educator. I own a copy of The Well-Trained Mind, but it sits, unmolested, on a shelf in my family room, from whence it shall--someday--join the ranks of those books destined for the used book store. I may read it first, but I'm waiting until the kids are all finished homeschooling.
I have, however, been privy to enough conversations about classical ed and read enough blog posts and articles to be familiar with the concepts. I have learned that classical educators--like radical unschoolers--jealously guard their turf. (We are and you're not, so don't even pretend you may overlap.)
All that said, as one of my more unschooly friends and I listened to Dr. Classical Ed last week, we were both struck by how much the process, the tools, the very structure of classical education mirrors the de facto way our unschooled children have learned. You would think that classical educators would like this affirmation that, yes, this is naturally the way children's minds work at these stages. But they don't. Not from us.
Like classical ed, we reject the boxing into subjects that progressive education insists upon. We agree that knowledge is interconnected. As is suggested in TWTM, we have always used history as a framework for "hanging" our knowledge. We have not taken the organized, cranked down approach suggested by classical ed, but we've gotten to the same desired place, with our children ready to join in the Great Conversation.
Am I saying we are classical educators? Certainly not! I gladly wear my badge of mostly unschooly-ish-ness. It keeps me sane and my children happy. And I'm also not arguing for the superiority of any one way of doing things. My philosophy is that each family needs to determine what works for them.
But if your end desire is kids who know things, can think critically, and can speak and write clearly about what they know, from a basis of the great tradition of the western world, well, there's more than one way to get there.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Unschooling and being a Christian
I original wrote this in February 2006, but it was brought to mind by a conversation on another blog, and I realized that it wasn't on this blog. So I'm posting it here.
Just before my unplanned hiatus I received an email from a homeschool mom who wanted to know how I could square being an unschooler with being a Christian. This isn't the first time I've heard someone question whether the two are compatible, but it is the first time I've tried to come up with an answer.
So what does it mean to be a Christian parent? The simplest way for me to answer is to turn to the Table of Duties in my copy of Luther's Small Catechism. There I find these words:
But there are things that they have to do. They have to bathe and brush teeth daily. They have to do their share of the work around the house without me nagging. This includes dishes, laundry, bedrooms, their bathroom, and cat care.
They have to attend church services. (As yet, no one has complained about this.) If they make commitments--to a team, choir, job, etc.--they have to fulfill them.
If I ever see that unschooling is not working for one of my kids, we will do something else. Because I *am* ultimately in charge. Unschooling was my decision not theirs. But after over ten years, it is still working.
So, yes, the short answer is I do think it is compatible with being a Christian.
Just before my unplanned hiatus I received an email from a homeschool mom who wanted to know how I could square being an unschooler with being a Christian. This isn't the first time I've heard someone question whether the two are compatible, but it is the first time I've tried to come up with an answer.
So what does it mean to be a Christian parent? The simplest way for me to answer is to turn to the Table of Duties in my copy of Luther's Small Catechism. There I find these words:
Ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Eph. 6, 4.
I fulfill my vocation as a Christian mother in many ways, including but not limited to having our children baptised, regularly attending services, and doing catechesis together. Part of our vocation as parents--whether or not we are Christians--is to see to the education of our children. We have chosen to homeschool, and, in the course of our homeschool journey, to unschool.I think that some people equate unschooling with having no discipline. They assume that unschooled children are allowed to do as they please in all areas of life. There very likely are unschooling families where this is true. However, I have a number of unschoolers among my acquaintances who--like us--require quite a bit from our kids and are unquestionably in charge.
Our unschooling does color the way we live our lives. My children have a great deal of autonomy in choosing what they will read and how they will spend their time. We don't have set times for "English" or "social studies." They don't do assignments and worksheets. They spend lots of time doing exactly what they want to do and learning all the while.But there are things that they have to do. They have to bathe and brush teeth daily. They have to do their share of the work around the house without me nagging. This includes dishes, laundry, bedrooms, their bathroom, and cat care.
They have to attend church services. (As yet, no one has complained about this.) If they make commitments--to a team, choir, job, etc.--they have to fulfill them.
If I ever see that unschooling is not working for one of my kids, we will do something else. Because I *am* ultimately in charge. Unschooling was my decision not theirs. But after over ten years, it is still working.
So, yes, the short answer is I do think it is compatible with being a Christian.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Dealing with doubts
For me, the most difficult part of homeschooling has always been dealing with my own doubts. I can deal easily with the doubts of others, although those are rarer the longer we do this and the more outward success we have. Unfortunately--or perhaps, fortunately--my own doubts are not so easily silenced. So I start running through the questions that plague many of us:
Have we done enough? Have we done it the right way? Would (insert name here) have been better off in school? At least for high school? What are we doing????
Then I settle myself down and look at some facts. Fact one: All of my children can read complex material with good comprehension and they love to read. Fact two: All of my children know how to find information that they need. Fact three: All of my children are culturally literate. They understand and recognize allusions from history and literature of the past, but are also conversant with the present. Fact four: All of my children are learning the practical skills needed to live as adults. They can cook, sew on a button, balance a checkbook, check the oil and change a tire, grow food, unclog a toilet, do laundry, or paint the house.
Could we have followed a more structured path? Certainly. Could we have pushed more advanced academic subjects? Sure. Could I have instilled more of a desire for success in the eyes of the world? Without a doubt. But we haven't done those things. Do I wish we had? Sometimes, but not because I am unhappy with our results. Instead, it is because I sometimes get these worries about how things SHOULD be, generally because of something someone says.
I also know that even if I had done all of things, I would be having doubts. So we'll continue on, adjusting as we go, doing what seems to make sense for each of the kids. It won't be perfect. It might not even be the best. And I'll always second-guessing. But it's working for us.
Have we done enough? Have we done it the right way? Would (insert name here) have been better off in school? At least for high school? What are we doing????
Then I settle myself down and look at some facts. Fact one: All of my children can read complex material with good comprehension and they love to read. Fact two: All of my children know how to find information that they need. Fact three: All of my children are culturally literate. They understand and recognize allusions from history and literature of the past, but are also conversant with the present. Fact four: All of my children are learning the practical skills needed to live as adults. They can cook, sew on a button, balance a checkbook, check the oil and change a tire, grow food, unclog a toilet, do laundry, or paint the house.
Could we have followed a more structured path? Certainly. Could we have pushed more advanced academic subjects? Sure. Could I have instilled more of a desire for success in the eyes of the world? Without a doubt. But we haven't done those things. Do I wish we had? Sometimes, but not because I am unhappy with our results. Instead, it is because I sometimes get these worries about how things SHOULD be, generally because of something someone says.
I also know that even if I had done all of things, I would be having doubts. So we'll continue on, adjusting as we go, doing what seems to make sense for each of the kids. It won't be perfect. It might not even be the best. And I'll always second-guessing. But it's working for us.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Explaining learning
This is a post that I wrote last year for my other blog. Amazingly, I had a conversation this weekend that brought it to mind again.
People understand school. They understand "education." They understand teaching. But what I've come to realize is that very few people understand learning.
They have a hard time grasping the absorption and growth of knowledge and understanding absent coercion or the assistance of an outside expert.
I was trying to explain to someone yesterday that, yes, my kids have learned to spell from reading. My daughter--who is an excellent writer--learned that craft by reading excellent writers.
We don't go "back to school" and that confuses people. I try to explain that they never stop learning, but that seems to confuse people, too.
When people find out that I was an education major, but changed my major after my practicum because I realized I would hate classroom teaching, they always suggest that it's ironic that I am a teacher now. But I'm not. I'm a parent. I actively teach my children very little. What I do do is provide them with opportunities and resources. I surround them with books and maps and music and art. I take them to parks and museums and antique stores and church and zoos and Target and beaches and coffee shops and soccer games and grandmas house. I let them weed the garden and wash the clothes and help me cook.
And we talk. All the time. We talk about the news, the book they're reading, and what the lyrics to our favorite Rush songs mean. We talk about why things are the way they are and what we can or can't do something about. We talk about moving to the country and the animals we'd have and what we would name our dogs. We talk about what we could possibly do with all of our tomatoes and why Amish chickens taste so good and why lightening does what it does when it strikes different structures.
I don't think I could keep them from learning, except maybe by sending them to school.
People understand school. They understand "education." They understand teaching. But what I've come to realize is that very few people understand learning.
They have a hard time grasping the absorption and growth of knowledge and understanding absent coercion or the assistance of an outside expert.
I was trying to explain to someone yesterday that, yes, my kids have learned to spell from reading. My daughter--who is an excellent writer--learned that craft by reading excellent writers.
We don't go "back to school" and that confuses people. I try to explain that they never stop learning, but that seems to confuse people, too.
When people find out that I was an education major, but changed my major after my practicum because I realized I would hate classroom teaching, they always suggest that it's ironic that I am a teacher now. But I'm not. I'm a parent. I actively teach my children very little. What I do do is provide them with opportunities and resources. I surround them with books and maps and music and art. I take them to parks and museums and antique stores and church and zoos and Target and beaches and coffee shops and soccer games and grandmas house. I let them weed the garden and wash the clothes and help me cook.
And we talk. All the time. We talk about the news, the book they're reading, and what the lyrics to our favorite Rush songs mean. We talk about why things are the way they are and what we can or can't do something about. We talk about moving to the country and the animals we'd have and what we would name our dogs. We talk about what we could possibly do with all of our tomatoes and why Amish chickens taste so good and why lightening does what it does when it strikes different structures.
I don't think I could keep them from learning, except maybe by sending them to school.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Once a homeschooler
Bethany's college classes don't start up again until late August, but she is hard at work. She's teaching herself Latin.
When we first discovered that Latin knowledge was required for the graduate program that she is interested in I was really disappointed. She's starting her senior year. Her schedule is full. She can't take Latin. She'll have to change her plans.
She, however, saw it differently. She asked me to help her find a Latin curriculum. While we waited for it to arrive she found some websites to help her get started. She is making quick progress and I have no doubt that she will have the necessary Latin knowledge for grad school.
I realized yesterday that Bethany, in nine years of unschooling, from fourth grade through high school, learned a very important lesson that I had nearly forgotten: A class is not a necessary ingredient for learning. Neither is a teacher.
Oh, yeah.
When we first discovered that Latin knowledge was required for the graduate program that she is interested in I was really disappointed. She's starting her senior year. Her schedule is full. She can't take Latin. She'll have to change her plans.
She, however, saw it differently. She asked me to help her find a Latin curriculum. While we waited for it to arrive she found some websites to help her get started. She is making quick progress and I have no doubt that she will have the necessary Latin knowledge for grad school.
I realized yesterday that Bethany, in nine years of unschooling, from fourth grade through high school, learned a very important lesson that I had nearly forgotten: A class is not a necessary ingredient for learning. Neither is a teacher.
Oh, yeah.
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