Held Hostage by Small Metal Implements: a Guest Post by Kelly Hogaboom

I'm delighted to present a guest post by my friend and all 'round awesome person Kelly Hogaboom!  We've all experienced similar questioning and reactions from people as school-free learners, and I greatly enjoyed hearing Kelly's take on the experience of "being held hostage by small metal implements." I hope you'll enjoy it too!

Getting talked at, while pinned down.

Today, the dental hygienist: "Do you have the day off of school?"

My nine year old daughter Phoenix: "No. I don't do school."

Hygienist: "Oh... do you homeschool?"

Phoenix: "Yes."

Hygienist: "So it's just like school, but at home!"

Phoenix: "Not really. It's quite different."

 

If you delve into almost any alternative education blog (homeschooling, unschooling, life learning, or any other related variation) you'll soon find author(s) discussing the seemingly endless querying we practitioners receive. Strangers, family, and friends regularly ask us not only to explain why and how we do things differently, but to in fact justify our life choices in a way seldom required of compulsory education adherents. More surprising still, although I admit I should no longer be surprised, many of these questioners will listen very little before proceeding to tell us how education really works, regardless of our perhaps relevant experience. Confirmation bias runs rampant and deep: often in these outsider assessments of our family life, children who give the appearance of excelling (by their manners, displayed intelligence, or skill acumen) are often labeled as "exceptions" (or "smart" or "bright", etc); while children who display any different-ness or perceived social faux pas are taken as proof that such alternative methods Don't Work (and of course, you rarely hear the compulsory schooling model being blamed for the sum and summation in the reciprocal case of a schooled child with "behavior problems", etc).

 

This is familiar ground for any family who has, with confidence, been navigating the alternative education or life learning waters.

 

We're a life learning family; radical unschoolers, if you will. For us, this means our children do not go to school and are not required to perform curriculum at home. In other words, we do nothing approximating "school at home", unless the children want to play a "school" game, which I'm just now realizing they haven't for some time. Our children are also not required to sleep at certain times or eat certain things (or forbidden others). They are not punished nor grounded when they make mistakes. They are not forced to do chores. They live with as much freedom as their father and I can afford them in safety, and any difficulties that come up are discussed as a family - and each voice has an equal say.

 

Obviously you can see this type of family model extends far beyond the scope of "education", although as many astute minds have pointed out, each of us is learning all the time, every waking (and possibly sleeping) moment. Family life is part of our education, of course.

 

So look - some time ago I gave up trying to argue why I think this is one ideal and perfectly lovely way to raise children. I am at peace with our choices; we are learning every day. Like everyone, we make mistakes and (hopefully) grow from them. My children continue to thrive emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. I'm hearing daily, in relative order, how "smart", "good", "cute", "well-behaved", etc. they are. And I guess those who have negative opinions are keeping them to, or amongst, themselves.

 

So yeah, I've got nothing to prove. I'd be happy most days to just go about my thing - and let other people do theirs.

 

But you know what? The number one question my children and I hear when out and about during daytime hours is, "You have a break from school?" And every time we get that question, in some form or another, these murky waters of JUSTIFY YOUR LIFE get stirred up.

 

We have options, of course, when asked this question. We can just say "Yes." We can say we "homeschool" and let people have their imaginations (this usually involves me being perceived as doing a Lot of Work to cram information into the children's otherwise thick, clay-like noggins). Sometimes I say we "unschool". That nearly always elicits an alarmed response. Sometimes I say, "My kids don't go to school," which is usually assumed as "homeschooling" - but also, occasionally, seriously rattles grownups. I have yet to meet someone who jumps to the correct conclusion: autodidacticism, but I know some day that will happen.

 

I should point out these are the reactions I get from adults; I notice other children seem to quickly understand what our life is about. These kids have, to a soul, enthused quite a bit about a new possibility. Some children have taken a request to homeschool ("homeschool") back to their families; and a handful of these have reported on their parents' opinions of our lifestyle (probably not something those parents would be happy to know got back to us, because many times their opinions were expressed in a very Meany-Pants way).

 

I let my kids field the questions sometimes. As you can see from today's example, my daughter handled the hygienist's questions (and assumptions) quite well; but later in the day I stopped at a spa for $15 worth of a treatment I hadn't had in a couple years and within minutes, on the table, I was once again cornered. "Oh you homeschool... how fun. My sister in ______________ does it too. I know how much WORK it is. You know, kids don't just learn on their own..."

 

Ugh.

 

You know what lady? They actually do. They really do just "learn on their own", just like you and me - like regular people, almost!

 

No. Scratch that. "Uh-hmm," I say. Just please finish grooming those ferocious eyebrows of mine. Thank you.

 

It's not that I am shy about our lifestyle. I've accepted some people get upset if we mess with their worldview, just by living our life. It's that SOMETIMES I am a little tired out and I just want to have a Normal Life. "Hey Bob, how's the wife and kids?" "Fine, Jim."

 

It's tricky enough that by being a minority in this country; our lifestyle's a bit cramped as it is. A life learning advocate and mentor I respect very much describes the life learning experience as "living as if school doesn't exist". I think I know what she means by this, but of course that is not possible in the United States. Even if you didn't have strangers, friends, and family quizzing you (or outright pressuring you in hostile fashion), the 98% (or so) rate of by-rote institutionalization of children, often since infancy, has major environmental effects. Many adults don't really know how to handle kids and have all sorts of (authoritarian, Scarcity Principle) ideas. Social life is skewed in the most child-segregationist manner: other people's children are not available during the day, and due to intense scheduling, often not available for much during the afternoons, evenings, or weekends, either. When I take my children out and about, I am discouraged from having them enter public spaces - either implicitly or explicitly (I have dozens of examples in my life; here's one - in Olympia, Washington, the closest "city" to my small town, restaurants that serve alcohol - that is most of them - disallow any children to enter after ten PM, even when accompanied by their parents).

 

It's not really possible to "live as if school doesn't exist", because so many depend on it existing and do not question the order of things. And you know, a lot of days that whole business is tricky enough without the pressure of WHY WHY WHY, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

 

My son Nels, with a post dentist-visit treat. I love we get to have special dates frequently during the week.

 

So yeah, as breathlessly lovely as it's been to be exposed to, learn about, and thrive by life learning, and as excited as I am to share our journey (you can read my blog if you'd like to know more), I do sometimes get weary of being reminded we're black sheep.

 

And please don't, as my aunt once said, tell me I'm "naive" to think if I do things differently than most, I'll get treated differently.

 

You can't really say I'm "naive" when actually, No I Actually Very Much Know What It's Like to live as a minority in this way.

 

It's like - but sometimes? I. Just. Want. To. Get. My. Brows. Waxed. Or Whatever.

 

Kelly Hogaboom is a 34-year old wife, mother, seamstress, writer, volunteer, and social wellbeing activist living in lush and verdant Hoquiam, WA, the United States. She enjoys daily life with family and friends, sobriety, B-movies, and lots of snuggles with the kids and the four kitties under the roof. You can read her blog at kelly.hogaboom.org, her social wellbeing site at underbellie.com, add her on G+, and/or follow her on Twitter (@kellyhogaboom & @underbellie, resp).

5 Ways to Help Someone HATE Reading

I've often heard complaints and worries, from a wide variety of people, about how many people, especially youth, don't like to read.  Blame is placed on a variety of things, from texting on cell phones to uninvolved parents to class sizes in school.  But rarely is the actual way reading is taught and approached and looked at brought into question the way I think it needs to be.

I positively love reading, and have since I learned to read at 8 or 9 (and before that I loved being read to), so perhaps I'm not the best person to be writing this.  Maybe someone who actually hates reading should be writing this, instead.  But then again, people who hate reading often hate writing as well, so would probably have no interest at all in writing about why they hate reading!  Besides, I know all the things that I think  were done right to foster my own love of reading, so I figure I can just think of all the opposite things that could have been done, instead.

1. Regulated reading.  When it comes to things to read, there's an overwhelming variety.  Comic books and magazines and poetry, novels and non-fiction books and instruction manuals and textbooks.  Yet usually the only types considered Important are actual books, not magazines or video game manuals, and within the category of books there are ones considered far more respectable and important than others (for instance, fantasy novels and non-fiction books on fashion are not generally considered important to include in A Comprehensive Curriculum).  There's so much out there to read that it's virtually guaranteed everyone can find something they enjoy reading.  Yet if someone is required to read only a certain type of book, only the type of reading deemed most "educational" and "worthwhile" the one doing the requiring is infringing on whatever relationship the learner could find themselves with the written word.  Coercion breeds resentment, and deciding what someone else should be reading will likely just create resentment against both the enforcer of that should and against reading itself.

2. Required reading.  Similarly to the above, requiring people to read certain amounts or at certain times of the day or for certain reasons is a great way to make reading feel more like work.  If something can feel fun instead, that's always what people should be aiming for!  As with any forced teaching or forced "educational activities," making reading mandatory doesn't make it something fun, it makes it something to resent.

3. Book reports.  So often growing up I heard homeschoolers discussing the book reports they required their children to write upon completing any book they read.  A forced book report (something often a very unappealing thing to write even for people who usually enjoy writing) looming at the end of every completed book, is not a very good incentive to do more reading.  If you want people to like reading, it has to be something positive and enjoyable, and anything that's done to make it feel more like work is really not conducive to people learning to enjoy reading for it's own sake.  When people are most likely to not mind doing things that feel like work is when that work is freely chosen, and when it feels meaningful and important.  Book reports?  Don't necessarily feel very meaningful!  Critically discussing books can be (almost) as interesting and enjoyable as reading itself, but that discussion can happen verbally or in many different written forms (discussion groups and chat-boards, blog posts, Amazon reviews, essays, or yes, book reports) and is of course only enjoyable when the reader has freely chosen to do so.  It's also important to remember that it doesn't signify a lack of comprehension if someone is happy reading without doing any type of break-down or discussion afterwards.  Different people learn and process things in different ways, and deciding everyone is best served by writing book reports is just going to, once again, breed resentment and negativity towards reading.

4. Shaming reading choices.  Maybe a parent doesn't actually regulate as such what their children read, but exclaims upon seeing that horror novel or Superman comic in their children's hands "you're reading that??," with a healthy helping of disdain.  This can be a very passive-aggressive tactic, or it can just be a knee-jerk comment made without thought, but either way, it's not pleasant.  People want approval and support from those they share their lives with, from the smallest choices and quirks to the biggest life decisions and goals, and even those smallest comments can be hurtful.  If reading is something they have to anxiously wonder what their parents will think and say about it, it's not going to be nearly as much fun (not to mention how harmful that type of interaction is to the relationship between parent and child!).

5. Focusing on reading skill.  I say this as opposed to focusing on reading enjoyment.  Reading skills are certainly important, and certainly influence reading enjoyment (if the act of reading itself is a struggle due to learning dissability or some other reason, it's obviously not going to be very enjoyable and needs to become less of a struggle first). But when you're purely talking about reading enjoyment, as I am in this post, I'm going to say that as long as someone is able to basically read without extreme difficulty, I think it's really important not to focus on individual reading skills, and instead on enjoyment. If someone is being tested regularly, prompted to read faster, asked regularly to read aloud (as a test of ability, not for fun, since reading aloud together can be really fun, no matter what age people are!), or otherwise has a parent focus strongly on reading skills, they're turning reading into something to feel anxious and possibly inadequate about. If someone enjoys reading, that's what's important.  And if someone enjoys reading and wants to do more of it, improved skill in the activity will naturally follow!

Of course, some people will face some or all of the things on this list, and still come out as passionate and voracious readers.  This list is simply some things I think are a lot more likely to harm than help!

How is your relationship with reading?  Do you think I missed anything that should be on this list?  Chime in in the comments section and share your thoughts and experiences!

Homeschooling Doesn't Mean Your Kids Will be Like You

I've talked to a lot of young parents considering alternative education of some sort or another, not necessarily unschooling, and to people who plan on teaching their children, a common enthusiasm expressed is that they'll be able to teach their children to love what they love.  Usually the thing they're talking about is "classic" something or other, especially literature.  Sometimes it's even put as baldly as that, though often that simply seems to be an underlying theme in what they're saying.  I don't point it out, though sometimes I consider doing so.  It doesn't seem particularly nice to say that all their dreams of creating children who share their interests isn't necessarily going to happen, and I figure it's something people will figure out themselves soon enough.  But I always kind of shake my head a bit, internally.  Trying to make someone else like the same things you like is likely to lead to them having little interest in the subject being pushed, at best, and actively disliking and resenting both the subject being pushed and the person pushing it, at worst.

I understand the drive behind it: when you think something is fascinating and exciting, enjoyable and useful, or simply fun, it's natural that you want to share it with others.  I'm very pleased with myself for making Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans of several of my friends, and I rather hope any future children of mine will like reading Tamora Pierce novels as much as I do.

I can't wait to read her newest novel!

Wanting others to like what you like is perfectly normal.  But where many people go wrong is in how they attempt to approach it.  With friends, you mostly have to be respectful about it, and introduce things in a "I think this is so cool and thought you might too, want to watch it/read it/try it with me?" But when it comes to children, so often their very thoughts are considered to be under parental control (because really, what is attempting to teach something against someones will if not attempting to control their thoughts?), parents decide what their children should be interested in, and decide to make it happen.

But of course, no matter how much power you hold over another individual, you may be able to make your children read classic literature, but you can't make them like it, no matter how much you enjoyed reading Mark Twain yourself.

It's understood that adults will have different interests based on their own personal tastes and preferences, and those different interests are generally at least marginally respected (while an interest in comic books might not be respected overly much, it's probably unlikely someone will be told to their face they should be reading classic lit instead), yet most often children get very different treatment.  Like ideas on the necessity of Shakespeare, many parents think that their list of things that have been most enriching in their lives will also prove the most enriching to their children, if only they teach them about it.

And hey, maybe it will prove just as enjoyable and enriching to them!  But it's far more likely to be if you approach it right, the same way you would with a friend or other adult loved one.  Share your enthusiasm, make the things you like readily available, ask if your kids want to watch this great movie, or read your favorite book.  Enthusiasm and passion are engaging, and can definitely spark interest for someone else.  But unless you want to breed resentment, be okay with your kids just not being interested, or watching that wonderful movie and finding it considerably less wonderful than you find it.  It also has to go both ways: if you expect your children to at least try out your favorite things, be ready to do the same with them.  The best relationships, no matter the type, are based on sharing: sharing of emotions and experiences and interests and passions.  It's no different when it comes to sharing favorite things with your children (and your children sharing their favorite things with you).

So I keep quiet when parents enthuse about how much their children are going to love this and that thing and subject because the parents are planning on making it an important part of their homeschool curriculum.  I just wish them the best, and hope that things work out in a way that each person gets to have their own favorite things, and enjoy sharing those favorites with each other!

Against the Grain: Listen to the Podcast on The Unschooler Experiment!

I fell down on the job these last few days what with Christmas and all, but as I'm sure you'll notice my last several posts were of the essays being published on The Unschooler Experiment as part of the Week of the Idzie.  You can find a list of all those essays here, and as of today you can also listen to me read them all on The Unschooler Experiment podcast!  Check it out:

Finding Community @ The Unschooler Experiment

Day 3 in the Week of the Idzie.

I started getting enthusiastic about the idea of unschooling when I was 16 or 17, and I actually met other unschoolers in real life for the first time when I was 17 and went to Not Back to School Camp. I think I expected everything to change instantly: that I’d magically become more outgoing and make a ton of new friends in one fell swoop, and I was a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. But I did really like the atmosphere of camp, and I did make some new, tentative friendships. And as I continued to make my way into the unschooling community by going to a couple of conferences with my mother and sister, and going to Not Back to School Camp again the next year, I started realizing that, slowly but surely, I was making quite a few friends. I found myself keeping in touch with those friends, even though they lived far away, and gaining a hell of a lot of confidence along the way.

I learned that maybe I was someone worth being friends with, after all, and I learned that there were a lot of unschoolers I very much wanted to get to know better.

Now, the unschooling community isn’t the only one I feel I need in my life: I was rather surprised when I first started going to unschooling events by how non-radical many unschoolers are. I guess I’d assumed that because questioning the schooling system lead me to questioning so much else, that that would be the experience of others, as well. And it is! Just not as many others as maybe I’d first thought. This isn’t meant in any way as a criticism, just an honest reflection of my thoughts. Regardless, the people I choose to surround myself with now are unschoolers, anarchists, radicals, queers, hippies, pagans, and other odd folk. And I’m using “odd” here in the most complementary sense possible!

Everyone will feel pulled to find different communities, but all of us do need community.

It’s the finding of it that can be difficult.

Read more at The Unschooler Experiment.

Normalcy is for Squares @ The Unschooler Experiment

Day two in The Week of the Idzie.

My sister and I spend a lot of time together. We enjoy having really great discussions, sharing observations, jokes, and just generally being best friends. And a while back, I made some comment along the lines that I dress pretty normally, and my sister just looked at me and said “Idzie, you’ve forgotten what normal is.”

I regularly forget what normal is about more than just clothing. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not, but I think it does say something about where, and with whom, I spend most of my time!

I’ve been asked if I feel unschooling made, and makes, it harder for me to connect with “regular” people, and I find that a difficult question to begin with, just because there are so many ways in which my views and lifestyle are, well, far from mainstream. It goes beyond just what could be covered under the label of unschooler.

Some people seem able to find common ground with every single person they come across, and I truly envy that skill. Because so often, with new acquaintances, I find myself running out of anything to talk about very, very quickly. Being the unschooling, vegetarian, animistic, green-anarchist, feminist, hippie freak that I am, what’s on my radar tends to look pretty different than the things that feature most prominently in many other peoples lives...

Read more over at The Unschooler Experiment!

I Get My Very Own Week, Courtesy of The Unschooler Experiment!

I did a recording of my talk Against The Current, for the wonderful website The Unschooler Experiment, about a month ago.  The Unschooler Experiment sets itself apart from pretty much all other unschooling sites in that it focuses on the stories and experiences of grown unschoolers themselves, instead of parents, and seeks to share information that's interesting and relevant to both grown unschoolers and parents of unschoolers (and grown unschooled parents of unschoolers, of course!).

And now I'm incredibly honored to be featured this whole week on that site, during The Week of the Idzie!  My talk has been broken up into 7 essays, which will be followed by my reading of those essays in a podcast on day 8.  I'm truly flattered, and also just can't help but be extremely amused by that title.  "Week of the Idzie"...  It sounds very much like something I'd declare dramatically and with great silliness to my family.  "I declare this to be the Week of the Idzie!!"  Anyway, a big thanks to Peter Kowalke and other awesome folks over at The Unschooler Experiment.

See all the Week of the Idzie posts here:

And read today's essay Against the Grain (Day 1 in the Week of the Idzie.  It seems egocentric to get such a kick out of that title, but I can't help it!). 

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In other news, though it may be taking longer than I'd hoped, posts will soon be posted on Sistermatic Response, I promise!  You can follow updates over at the Sistermatic Response Facebook page.  You can also, of course, follow this blog as well, at the I'm Unschooled. Yes, I Can Write. Facebook page!

Unschooling and Trust

When you get right down to it one of the most integral aspects of unschooling, and this is something you hear lots of unschooling advocates saying, is trust.

Trust is a really nice word.  According to Dictionary.com, trust is:

trust

 [truhst] 

noun

1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

2. confident expectation of something; hope.

I love that first definition.  Reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person.  Unschooling, or really, doing many things differently than those ways of doing and being sanctioned by the dominant culture, takes a lot of trust.  It takes trust on multiple levels.

Trusting that Nature/evolution/the Divine/God/Goddess has created human beings capable of learning, capable of following their innate drive to learn, capable of making the important decisions in their lives.  It's trusting that nature got things right.

Trusting, as a parent, that you have the capability (and strength, ability, surety) to make the decision to take your kids out of school, or to never send them to school to begin with.  And trusting that your children are capable people, able to learn and grow guided by their innate desire to explore the world around them. 

Trusting yourself, as someone who is themselves of an age to be in compulsory schooling, to have the insight, foresight, strength and ability to take the leap of leaving school, or if your parents made that decision at an earlier point for you, trusting that you really have always been and continue to be capable of controlling your own learning, "education," and life.

Trust is hard, and learning to trust yourself is a continuous journey, full of learning and re-learning your own strength and capability, while learning to accept weaknesses and mistakes.  A great strength of unschooling is, I believe, the gift of being confident in the innate ability of children to learn.  Giving them trust.  And in so doing, breaking a cycle of teaching dependance on authority, breaking the cycle of teaching children that they're incompetent and incapable of having a major say in their own lives. 

I believe unschooling can really help in allowing people to develop confidence in their own power.

At the same time, though, unschoolers are of course just people, and unschooling doesn't erase the influences of the rest of this culture, or fundamentally change the fact that everyone, no matter their upbringing or education, has insecurities and worries and problems with trusting their own judgement.  I never went to school (I don't count kindergarten), yet that doesn't stop my insecurities!  And it doesn't stop me from wondering on a regular basis if I am trustworthy, if I really am capable of making the best choices for myself.

It helps though, having had so much trust for so many years.  It helps being able to look at all the things I've learned and accomplished, by my own initiative and in my own time. 

So, unschooling is really about trusting.  Trusting Nature, trusting your kids, trusting yourself.  It won't be perfect, but as long as that core of trust remains, I'd say unschooling works out pretty damn well.