Archive for unschooling

Dispatches from the Literacy Wars

You may be unsurprised to learn that in that heated battle between phonics and whole language, I am on the whole language team.  (I have previously confessed to being progressive after all).  In my view,  phonics is not useful… in particular when the language you work with is not phonetic.  Also, I’m biased, as I learnt to read using the whole language approach (before I even knew I was a progressive!) and was subsequently bored to tears/frustrated beyond measure when they went through phonics at school.  Evidence of my confusion was apparant to my friends when I became older and started verbalising words that I had never heard – only read.  I could spell them and use them in context….. but I couldn’t actually pronounce them correctly.   Didn’t matter of course.  One correction and I had the pronunciation for life.

So subsequently I am yet again inflicting my world view on my poor deprived children.  Now normally you wouldn’t find me writing about any of my kids so-called “achievements”.   That is the last thing I would like to inflict on anyone because a) it’s mainly uninteresting to anyone but P & I, b) I really dislike the often competitive nature of parenting, schooling, and (I am coming to realise) homeschooling, c) I don’t subscribe to developmental timelines  and d) worst of all, I don’t want to send anyone into a panic that my child is doing something that their child is not……

However for the purposes of sharing my discoveries on this topic you will need to bear with me.  To alleviate any mounting anxieties, let me say up front that T is not yet reading.   But the unfolding process is really interesting.  I have not initiated any “teaching”.  I read aloud and I write down things as requested for T to copy.  (I think I maybe the only school where the first written words include poo, fart and penis.)   Developments to date include several phonic-related understandings.   T uses me as a “checker” for his understanding.  Eg.  He will point to a written word and ask me what it is/say it out loud – look for confirmation from me.   In drawing his many superheroes he will check with me he has the correct letter to draw on their costume (eg, “R” for Rocketeer).  And more recently, somehow I Spy has graduated from “I spy something red” to “I spy something beginning with B”…… and more often than not correct!!

Now, let me wallow for a moment and say that my child is amazing!!  The great thing is, of course, that all children are amazing…. and when you let them be, be prepared to be amazed.

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My life as an anarchist

Trash the system baby.  I didn’t realise I was an anarchist until recently.  For someone who follows politics like a blood sport, I am remarkably naive.  I finally understand that when I announce I am a homeschooler, people respond as though I have announced I am an anarchist.  And actually, they’re right.  I reject it all.  I reject the false premise that everyone has to know the same things. I reject the whole idea that people should be “graded”.  I reject using childhood as a training ground for adult economic participation.   I reject educational and work achievements as sources of meaning or identity.

Birth, parenting, education.  I didn’t realise that these were political acts.  I thought they were personal decisions, but they have the capacity to deeply challenge people’s assumptions, and that pisses people off.   They don’t want to know that you can birth at home, that babies don’t need nappies, that you don’t have to go to school. 

Education is so politicised, it’s frightening.  Far from being a stable anchor of society, it is at the frontline of the culture wars, where people battle for the supremacy of their ideas in order to shape our kids into their storm troopers of the future.    When government are constantly forming committees to develop the “perfect curriculum”, can’t people see that this is the ultimate propaganda vehicle?  When even *how* children should learn to read (phonics versus whole language) can become a battleground between conservative and progressive forces, you know it’s about competing world views.   What about being guided by the individual needs and preferences of the child?  That would be the absolutely last approach that any instrument of the state would take.   Despite individual efforts from some teachers (hats off to them) they have no chance.   Basically, any teacher that doesn’t ultimately succumb to a belief in authoritarianism is doomed to a life of cognitive dissonance, not to say multiple personality disorder.

You can read about school failures any day of the week, but everyone wants to tweak around the edges of the system – or better yet - syphon those individuals who are “failing” into a group together where they can’t interrupt the induction of the compliant (quiet) majority.  And then blame those individuals for their own dumbness.  That’s good, because maybe if they get that message clearly enough they’ll eventually shut up, find some ghetto, and obediently fail in the adult economic competition as well.  

I love the black humour involved when schooling doesn’t work.  Invariably, the answer is…… more school!  A different curriculum, longer hours, after hours courses, more homework etc etc.  Or another favourite – school as the answer to social problems.  Want to solve the “aboriginal problem”?  Get those kids to attend school everyday.  Haven’t they been socialised to quietly accept hours of meaningless activities?  I’d fine the parents – they’re doing a bad job. (That’s sarcastic, in case you don’t know me.)   It’s the ultimate test that no school would ever set for itself.  Make its program voluntary, and see how many students turn up.   A real education revolution.

I can’t yell it loudly enough:  SCHOOL IS NOT THE ANSWER!!!!   And that applies to pretty much any question you might be asking, other than the one in which you are plotting to take over the world.  My retreat into anarchy seems to be the logical resting place for my schizophrenic political beliefs.  A social progressive who doesn’t really believe in government services any more.

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Second chances, and motivation to learn

On Friday I took delivery of a hired piano.   To those of my friends who read this blog, I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude for the ongoing inspiration.  I don’t need to read celebrity mags or biographies of famous people – I only need to look to the “extra” ordinary people in my life for wonderful ideas and motivation.

In this instance, my own husband has been ‘aimlessly strumming’ his second hand guitar – like a meditation – for years.  I have one friend who has picked up the violin after a few decades of *not* picking it up, and another friend who has recently bought a piano and intends to learn.    I am inspired.  

I was one of those children who was *forced* to learn the piano as a child.   It was not a happy time.   I could not have wanted to practice any less.  The lessons were torture (as I hadn’t practiced enough).  The exams were times of the most intense pressure and desperation.  On one occasion I broke into silent heaving sobs over the keyboard as I tried to play.  The examiner was horrified, and passed me as an act of kindness.  By the time my parents were convinced that I *really* wasn’t enjoying it, and decided a different, “no exams” type teacher might suit, I had been ruined for it.  I couldn’t play for pleasure.  It just wasn’t a pleasure.  It was, finally, a pleasure when I was allowed to stop.

Of all the things I learnt at piano lessons (and it wasn’t a complete waste – I can still read basic music) the most powerful and enduring lesson was that I “wasn’t musical”.   For decades, I never sang aloud – only miming in the obligatory school choir.   I never touched, let alone tried to play, a musical instrument. 

How often our culture’s connection between ‘learning’ and external ‘achievement’, ruins our pleasure in learning and discovery.  How often the thing you *have* to learn, becomes the very thing you are resistant to learning.  How often we self select out of things, because we won’t be as good as we “should” be.

It was only with the arrival of my children that I was prepared to sing, to ”have a go” on the toy xylophone, or blow into the harmonica.   In my determination that the world of music should be open to them, I was forced to the conclusion that, by default, it had to be open to me.   As is so often the case, your children, just by being, give you that “second chance”. 

I started to get a bit rebellious that my experiences had given me such a negative label.   That this whole field of human endevour and culture had been closed to me.  I determined that even though I would never be a great  musician, the world of music was as much mine to explore, as it was anyone else’s.

When the piano arrived, I didn’t dare play a note without music in front of me.   I raced to my mum’s to borrow some sheet music.   Of course the irony is that now, when I am so excited about the piano, and want to practice SO MUCH, I barely get a chance.  Oh well.  Better to yearn to do something, than be forced.

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Reading

Next time I’m at the library, I’m going to look up the Guiness Book of World Records, to see if there is a record for the number of books read to a child in a day by an adult, with the proviso being that the adult is *not* allowed to suggest to the child “let’s read a book”.  I reckon I’m a contender.  Phew. 

A year or so ago I was inspired by another home ed mum, who told me that it was her personal rule never to say “no” or ”postpone” a child who asked to read a book.  A worthy aspiration, but one that I’ve failed at a few times (Home Ed Mum Strike 1!)

While I’m at the library, I think I might also see who came up with the idea of anthologies and applied this to childrens books.   Have they ever sat down with an anthology to read ‘just one story’ to a child?  In the past my children have been given lovely large hard cover anthologies……… and I’ve disappeared them off to the charity bin (Home Ed Mum Strike 2!)

My oldest child is now FIVE and is not a reader (Home Ed Mum Strike 3 – and you’re OUT!) 

Recent conversation with Concerned Relative:

CR:   You know, there are some things that T can’t do, that you could do at 5.

Me:  You mean…. like reading?

CR:  Well, yes.

Me:  Not all 5 year olds can read.

CR:  Well…. no…  but if he was going to school he would be learning to read…

Me:  Well, some 5 year olds who have already done 2 years of school aren’t yet reading

CR:  Well, yes, but those two years are play based…..  he would be learning to read in Year 1.

Me:  When we went to local school to spend a morning with the Year 1 class in term 3, some of those kids weren’t reading.   I know T will read, I just don’t know when.

CR:  But you don’t *do* anything with him……

Me:  I believe in natural learning.  If he’s still not reading at 7, then I’m thinking about the Steiner curriculum.  (Editors note:  I like to change my pedagogy regularly….  I’m a bit like the education department in that way)  Will you feel better when T can read?

CR:  Are you going to send them to school?

Me:  Oh, they’ll probably go one day, poor little things.

CR: (hushed voice)  You can’t say that in front of them!

Me:  Well, I’m their mother and I’m pushing my values onto them just as hard and fast as I can.

CR:  (redeeming themselves later) I think your kids are beautiful and your values are wonderful… and  I wish I could live them more too.   (Hugs all round)

Note to all concerned relatives.  I appreciate your care.  But there is NOTHING that you can worry about my kids that I don’t worry about more than you.   I could send my boys to school and kid myself that I have outsourced some of my responsibilities to build their characters, lift their spirits, teach them all the ’stuff that everyone is supposed to know’ and send them soaring out into the world.   But I haven’t.  I’ve just given myself a lot less time to do it in. 

I could carefully choose the school they were going to.  But in reality I haven’t chosen or vetted one individual who is now by default a role model or mentor in their life. 

It does feel safer to give some of the responsibility away.   When I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility, I think of the school option.  Then if things go wrong I can spread the blame around.   But the school won’t love T.  The school won’t *really* care what happens to T when he moves on.  If T can’t read on their timeframe, he’ll be a “problem”.  If T can’t read on my timeframe, then I can sit and hug with him on the couch and read books endlessly and work with him for as long as it takes.  If there truly is a problem and T  can never ever read, then I will be his reader for as long as I live.  That’s what it means to be a parent.  That’s my commitment to his engagement with the written word.

School might like to have a walk-on part in a scene from the Grand Drama that is “T’s Life”.  But my role in the supporting cast is so enduring, that I don’t even leave the stage when I die.

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21st Century Book Burner

Last night I removed the DVD/Video player, and this morning I advised T & J that it was “broken”.  This follows an episode during the week where I literally ripped up a video tape that J had wanted played on a never-ending loop, which was then also “broken”.

I’m like the little boy at the dyke, desperately trying to stop the tsunami of western popular culture swamping our family life and values.

T did not discover television until sometime after age two.  We then went through various manoeuvrings trying to find the right balance of “screen time” with other activities.  This included stages of me being heavily influenced by a radical unschooling perspective, whereby I felt if I allowed him to do what he wanted, and if everything was freely available, he would eventually find the right balance, and other stages of believing that too much screen time was unhealthy and intervening/limiting the amount.  By age five we had come to a level I could live with.  Basically Tom had accepted the theory of “limited screen time” and elected to watch ABC kids from 3.00pm.  He would decide when to turn it off, and made different choices depending on what programs were showing.

Then along came J.  Until about 2 months ago he was pretty oblivious to the lure of television.  While T was watching, it might capture his attention for a minute, but that was all.  Then suddenly he was into it in a big way.   He was really introduced to “children’s videos” while we were on holiday for a week, and he was hooked.  He wanted the same show again and again and again.  It was the first thing he thought of in the morning, and at any moment while at home it would occur to him again that he would like to watch ”wally” or the  ”funny races”. 

My response varied from guilty relief that he was happily occupied so I could get on with something else, to tearing my hair out that he couldn’t think of anything else.  The killer was that as soon as I turned something on for J, T would then be mesmerised by the screen as well.  The “radical unschooling” approach with TV just wasn’t working with two children at the same time, as too often when one chose to watch, the other was drawn into it, even though they had been happily occupied with something else moments before.  One would be finished and turn it off – the other would howl with protest and turn it back on, and the first would be re-mesmerised again!

I don’t keep “treat food” in the house because I don’t want my kids to eat it, and I REALLY don’t want to be engaged in on-going negotiations about when/how much of it they can eat.  If anyone wants a “treat” that badly they either have to go to the shop, or they have to make it.  We have been a TV-free house in the past – and this would be the best solution to the current dilemma.   However, getting rid of the DVD is a pretty good start, as our old analogue non-Foxtel TV is mostly not showing anything that the kids want to watch.

***Surprisingly, when told that the DVD had broken T skipped into the garden & fashioned a lute from a piece of driftwood. J chose to immerse himself in the works of Chomski.

P declared he would devote his tv devoid life  to shadow puppetry.

I think I’ll start knitting a peace blanket with navel lint,& I must fix that hole in my shoe that’s letting in water***

The above asterixed items were written by P while I was otherwised engaged.  I’m not sure I can improve on those……  you get the drift.

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molluscs and gingerbread robots

Yesterday I ‘taught a lesson’ on molluscs with a group of early primary-school aged children. 

First, some background.  Our homeschool co-op had decided that the older children in the group might enjoy/benefit from a more structured session at our regular gathering – maybe a science tutorial?  I was definitely interested in this concept, as T has become a somewhat reluctant participant at co-op.  He very much likes his friends there, but I felt if there was another drawcard – something “new”, or “interesting” happening, this might get us over the current hurdle of not really wanting to go.

In summary, I searched for a facilitator, none was to be found, and so I volunteered to take some sessions myself.  Hence my foray into the world of the primary school teacher.   I looked through the various ’science for kids’ books that I have.   I came up with “molluscs”, which was a composite theme, to include three of these activities.  I googled molluscs to familiarise myself with basic mollusc facts.  I bought some live oysters from the fish shop, and arranged my materials.  I roughed out a “lesson plan” – starting with that brilliant opening line…… “Does anyone know what a mollusc is?”  I then facilitated the session.

I think the kids enjoyed it.  They *loved* the literally ‘garden variety’ snails, whereas my specially sourced live oysters were discarded early.  However, my overall experience reinforced my prejudices about how kids learn.   Basically, I don’t think they learnt anything.  They got to regurgitate learning they already had.  They got distracted, went off topic, daydreamed, walked away.  It would be easy to think- well, that’s because they’re only 4! or 5! or 6!  But that’s not true. 

I have been with T when he has initiated the topic.  He’s is capable of long periods of concentration and able to grasp concepts – and grapple with them until he feels comfortable that he has reached a level of competence that meets his need.    He’s also relentless in his quest for information.  Questions that I wish would go away - ”how can I build a rocket?” - recur until I grit my teeth and get the answer (thank you library!)  When the child is interested – they can pretty much learn anything.  And not just for that moment, either – that learning is retained.  No repetition of the information is required – unless we’re double checking or cross referencing.

As the “teacher” yesterday, my overall feeling was that my role was a composite of entertainment and crowd control.  The topic of “molluscs” was a way for me to not feel scared that I was responsible for these kids and what were we going to DO??   Luckily for me, I don’t have to report on any outcomes.  So with these new insights I can let go of “learning about science”, and focus on having fun with the kids.  Maybe providing some materials to explore and then take it from there.

I was feeling good about natural learning.  At 8.30 that night, as I was following along with T’s suggestion to make gingerbread robots, I was thinking “I must be MENTAL – if they were going to school tomorrow they’d be in bed by now!”

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