The Life Without School Community Blog

The Importance of Research Before Relocating

by Bettina

For many families who must relocate because of ties to the military or other 'on command' industries, relocation is a matter of necessity and not convenience. For some of us, though, relocating is a way to reach for our dreams and goals. We are the ones who have the freedom to search out places that satisfy our needs before we commit to a move.

One big question for those of us who homeschool and wish to relocate is:

What is homeschooling like in (insert state or country)?

It is wonderful to be able to take this question into consideration when making a decision about where to live. Even those who are undergoing relocation due to transfers, it makes sense to work out the legalities before you move so that you are prepped and ready to go when you get settled in your new home.

A few things I have found helpful in searching out homeschool law and environment are:

1. Join a statewide homeschooling e-group for the place you will be moving to. You might begin your search here: http://homeschooling.gomilpitas.com/regional/
2. Find the state's homeschooling law online and read over the law, pausing to look up any unfamiliar words. If you have questions after reading the law, ask on the group mentioned in number one. You might begin your search here: http://homeschooling.gomilpitas.com/directory/Legalities.htm
3. Join an email group for homeschoolers in the area in which you intend to live. Ask about park days and co-ops, athletics and what sort of social environment exists. It is helpful to know that you're going to live in an area that is mostly Southern Baptist or Libertarian humanist. For those who can make a choice, it may sway you one way or the other to be aware of these things. You might begin your search here: http://homeschooling.gomilpitas.com/weblinks/support.htm
4. Order travel information from the state. There is almost always a state road map included.
5. Talk to your children about the move. Commiserate about the pending stresses of leaving friends behind and the excitements of making new ones. Do a unit study on the state and have them learn a bit about its history, the state capitol, the name of the governor. It will help them feel more at home there.
6. Read homeschool and other blogs written by natives of the area you are relocating to. Contact them with questions if you want. Bloggers are chatty by nature.

The internet is a great tool, especially for a family preparing to make a move. We can now make our choices based not only on availability of work or the lifestyle we wish to pursue, but also on the level of regulation we are comfortable with. If you enjoy strictly governed homeschooling, try North Dakota. Prefer a less government-heavy approach? Maybe Idaho, where you don't have to notify anyone of anything, would be more your style? Either way, it's good to be prepared.

Bettina Colonna Essert is a native of the Virginia/North Carolina borderland. She currently lives on a 'farmette' in rural NE NC with her husband, 2 home schooled children and a menagerie of farm animals. Bettina is an Equine Sports Massage Therapist and also handcrafts a line of fine, organic bath products, Alchemy Redefined.

Upside Down and Backwards

by Laureen

We're playing with learning to read, but Rowan's not all that interested. He's far more fascinated with learning to write. So we're doing a lot of that. I'm getting used to spelling out my entire grocery list, notes to Jason, pretty much anything I need written down. He's not interested in worksheets or any other formal writing practice; he wants to freeform.

I was a very "classical" learner, and I'm also a reader, while I'm figuring out that Rowan, like his father, is a visual/spatial learner. Knowing this, I don't freak out too much about the fact that Rowan can't read yet (except for words he wants to know, like "SpiderMan" and "YouTube"). I see that he wants to make sure that a letter is the same whether it's written in crayon or in pencil, in chalk or in finger paint, and so we play around with that. He's very interested in the media, more so than the message, and the shapes of the letters seem far more relevant to him than the meaning they're to represent. He's approaching the entire reading/writing learning process in a different way than I did, and it's fascinating to observe.

I spend a lot of time gagging my inner critic. For schoolish me, reading is an end in itself, and all of the side exploration is time wasting. It takes me a lot of deep breaths to not get frustrated, and to truly recognize that the other stuff he's figuring out along the way is every bit as valuable as the actual "reading". I'm a professional editor, but had never figured out that spinning from E to M to 3 to W was fun if you draw the shapes correctly and pivot them on the center point.

The point is to realize that there are many, many fascinating things in this world, and rushing off to the same end result everyone else points to may end up with you missing some of the neatest detours available.

So a few days ago, Rowan decided he wanted to write Kestrel's name out. Carefully aligned in the center of the piece of green construction paper, with his red pen, he wrote out "K... E..."... and a backwards S. Jason pointed out, "Hey, Rowan, you've written the 'S' backwards" and left it at that. (And I'm not even going go into my tirade about how "backwards" is factual information, but most adults in that situation select instead the term "wrong", which comes preloaded with judgment.)

Rowan stared intensely at the page for about a minute. Smiled. Rotated the page, and then drew T...R...E...L... backwards too. So when he was done, Kestrel's whole name was there, in block capitals, in mirror writing.

"Egads!" I thought to myself, "I wonder if that's how Da Vinci got started on mirror writing!"

Quite independently of how excited Jason and I were about him figuring it out, Rowan was very pleased with himself. He explained to me that the shapes worked out, and that was that. I'm still not quite sure what he meant or why the shapes were more pleasing to his eye in mirror-reversal than they were forwards.  And in the week or so since, he's kept flipping his words around and playing with the shapes.

And I, who because of my own mental process would accidentally and needlessly limit his in the quest to "teach to read and write", am keeping my mouth firmly shut, and simply enjoying the adventure my learning style never allowed me to take.

Laureen is a writer, a professional editor, a scuba instructor, a beginning  sailor, a traveler, and an obsessive researcher who's chiefly focused  on, and delighted with, her husband Jason and her sons Rowan and  Kestrel. She's a lifelong Californian, which lends a very distinctive  spin to both her ideas and her politics, and she's discovered, in her  peregrinations, that the world is far smaller yet far more fascinating  than anyone gives it credit for being. She holds forth her opinions on  that in her blog, The ElementalMom.

Teaching a Child How to Read

by Jena

Reading is the number one, most important thing you can do for your child's education. Reading starts your child on the path of following his interests as far as he wants to go. That's obvious, right? I am always surprised by the number of moms who stress out about all the things to cover in kindergarten and first grade. My suggestion has always been, "Teach them to read, and then just let them go. Reading is the door that opens the world to them."

I didn't start early reading lessons with Peter (my first), but I read to him a lot. We read a couple books every night before bed. Sometimes I'd run my finger along the line of words to show him that what I was saying matched the letters. He knew the names of the letters, and I'm sure we talked about letter sounds and recognizing words, but only in an off-hand kind of way. When he was five or so, I got out a one-page list of all the basic sounds in English and their corresponding letters. Each letter/sound combination had a representative word printed in tiny letters underneath. I stuck it on the refrigerator, and every morning over a bowl of cereal I'd bring up a couple letter sounds.

"Peter, did you know the letter c makes a 'k' sound like in cake or an 's' sound like in cereal?"

And we might look for words that started with that letter on the cereal box, or think of other words to test out that information. It would take about five minutes and he was off doing something else. Driving in the car I might point out a street sign and talk about the letters and what it said, or find other ways to bring up letter/sound relationships. We did that for a couple months.

Then one day at the library, he was looking at a string of letters on the wall above the bookshelves. He turned to me and said, "Yeah, reading really is magic." What?? I looked up and saw that the librarians had taken the Halloween theme and cut out letters and pictures to make a display that said, "Reading is Magic!" And that was the beginning of Peter's reading career. Teaching reading isn't so hard, I thought to myself. And if Peter had been my only child, I probably would still believe that.

I assumed Meg would follow the same path, but reading never clicked with her the way it did with Peter. When the one-page, no-frills phonics sheet didn't help, we went to workbooks and Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, Sing Spell Read and Write, and Explode the Code. I'm not an alarmist, but her inability to catch on to reading started to concern me. I knew she was intelligent and was just fine socially and physically, but the reading thing really had her stumped. Once in awhile my husband would try to teach her to read and they'd work through some curriculum, but it always ended with Meg in tears. She really wanted to read, but she just couldn't get it. I read somewhere that Woodrow Wilson didn't learn to read until he was 12, and he went on to be the president of Harvard and the president of the United States, so I resolved not to worry until she was 12. I was afraid the stress of trying to learn to read might make her hate reading all together, so I down-played the whole thing as much as possible.

Then one day, when she was between 10 and 11 years old, we were sitting in church where words to a song were projected on the screen. She leaned over to me, and with a big smile, whispered, "I can read that!" And that was it. She started reading like crazy, catching up with lightning speed. Spelling was difficult for a long time, but I reassured her that she'd only been reading a year or two, so it made sense that she'd be a little behind. But now, with all the practice she gets with texting and instant messaging, her spelling abilities are just fine! (A friend pointed out that this can actually hamper a child's spelling ability, so I asked my kids. It turns out they have a certain texting program that forces them to spell out most words. They are always double-checking their spelling with me, so I knew they were getting lots of practice.)

Melissa, the youngest, was more like Peter. As I was trying to teach Meg to read, little bitty Melissa would chime in with the answers. I tried to hide her reading ability so Meg wouldn't get too discouraged, but after awhile, that was silly. No one made a big deal out it, and we all focused on our strengths.

As I look back on those years, I am even more thankful we homeschooled. Meg would have been labeled learning disabled and probably held back a grade or two. That would have devastated her. Today she is a bright and confident young woman, a gifted artist, and a vocalist. She's been in several local theater productions, playing the lead in at least two. She thinks she might want to study Music Theater in college. And her favorite hobby? Reading.

Jena began homeschooling in 1994. Her three children are now teenagers; one is graduated and attends  the University of Chicago on a full ride scholarship, the next one is 16 and pursues life without school in the arts, and the youngest is a freshman, trying out public school for the first time. In 2005 they bought a 7000 square foot church building and converted it into their home. You can read more about their adventures on her blog, yarns of the heart.

Jena

Over the years I’ve been hesitant to talk about the details of my homeschooling. All my friends kept schedules and worked through classroom-type curriculum, but I didn’t. My style of schooling never matched those around me, so I was a little intimidated and rarely had the guts to talk about what I did with my kids. But at home, everyone knew my philosophy was to “maintain the joy of childhood and the joy of learning.” I believed they should have the freedom to pursue their interests and be self-motivated learners. Now, after 13 years and the graduation of my oldest, I’m ready to tell my story. In the eyes of the education establishment, he’s a huge success:  a National Merit Scholar with a full ride to the University of Chicago. But more than that, he’s a happy, confident, sociable young man, and we both believe his homeschooling experience had a lot to do with it.

My other two children are girls. The youngest will be a freshman this year and wants to try public school. She’s quite the athlete, and wants to get into high school sports. Our middle child will be a junior and only wants to take choir at the high school. She’s active in Community Theater and may pursue Music Theater in college.

Schooling is a journey. There are no guarantees, only a deep love for our children and a desire to see them grow into who they will become. As we fumble our way down this path, it’s nice to hear from others who are a little further ahead. I know I would have liked that when my kids were younger. I hope I can do that for you.

Jena began homeschooling in 1994. Her three children are now teenagers; one is graduated and attends  the University of Chicago, the next one is 16 and pursues life without school in the arts, and the youngest is a freshman, trying out public school for the first time. In 2005 they bought a 7000 square foot church building and converted it into their home. You can read more about her adventures at her blog, yarns of the heart.

The Dark Side

by Missy

The scene:  A darkened room, tucked away from the fluorescent glare of the rest of the building. Heavy velvet curtains line the walls and absorb sound. In one corner, there's an old coffee maker and a pile of mix-matched mugs. In another, a portable meth lab (okay, not really -  just a pan of...special...brownies). And, in the middle of the room, there's a large table where about five people are gathered, clutching their coffee in one hand and a pen in the other, looking over a thick packet.

Person A:  I have it on good authority that the Wilsons are coming back to school next week.

Person B:  Really? Hehe. Mrs. Wilson couldn't hack it, huh?

Person A: Nope. The school board office asked her for a detailed curriculum three times, and she just never got it done.

Person C: But...that's illegal, isn't it?

Person A: Mrs. Wilson doesn't know that.

Person B: Beautiful. Three more kids, back in the public school system.

Everyone marks something in their packet.

Person D: What about the O'Connor kid?

Person A: No luck yet. Mom seems pretty determined. The truant officer didn't even faze her.

Person B: Damned educated parents.

Person C: We could bribe the kids--with stickers and Jolly Ranchers and puppies! I know where they live.

Person A: Don't worry! The school board meets tonight. On the agenda for their closed door meeting? More money for us! A quarter of the budget is going to be set aside for our plans. That's how important this is. We can do it--we can get these homeschoolers back!

Teachers cackle.

Fade to black.
******
It's not a competition.

Really.

There's not some secretive, closed-door board room or some underground teachers' lounge where public educators speak in hushed whispers about how to draw homeschoolers back. into. the. borg. They don't plot to recruit us back.

And, usually, homeschoolers don't sit and condemn passing public school families. We don't generally point and snicker at the school bus every morning. Usually because we're all still asleep, but that's beside the point.

It's not us vs. them.

There's no battle.

There are people, parents, who make choices. And those choices must be respected.

I know there are homeschoolers who maintain that public school is poisonous, that everyone--regardless of circumstances--can and should homeschool, end of subject, no excuses.

Hogwash.

Some people genuinely can't. Others genuinely shouldn't. You can't take your own circumstances and your own talents and personality and capabilities and apply them across the entire population. You can't impose your choices, what has worked for you, on others. What is balanced in your life might not be in someone else's.

And there are parents and public educators who believe very strongly that, if you hold a certain political view, you must support the public school system at all costs.

That, too, is a giant load of twaddle.

The truth is, as usual, somewhere in between the two extremes.

Teachers and other school employees generally don't come to work intending to distribute drugs to their students or push distorted values and semi-pornographic literature. They don't lie awake at night hatching plots against homeschoolers. They actually have other things to think about. Most of them have their own families. They have students they're worried about and state testing standards they didn't ask for. And they worry about how to reach all these students and how to keep them excited about learning, even while state and national requirements get tighter and narrower.

They don't have the time or the energy to worry about us, and to think that they're sitting around talking constantly about homeschoolers and trying to keep up with some master plan to brainwash our children is...well, a little egocentric.

They are people, like us, who worry about their children, who worry if they're making the right choices for them, and who sometimes feel, when faced with a homeschooling group, that they're being judged.

Sometimes, I’ve noticed recently, they are. We do sometimes tend to jump to rash conclusions about people associated with the public school system. I’ve seen people take a single negative event and use it to judge the whole. I’ve heard others hint at conspiracies or partnerships designed, perhaps, to go after homeschoolers. (Tinfoil hat on tight enough, folks?)

Yet, when you peel away the lens of egocentricism seeped in paranoia and really look at “the other side”, you get…people: flawed individuals, but with flesh and feelings. The members of the NEA, despite the organization’s somewhat disturbing (and out-dated) official stance on homeschooling, don’t honestly care that much if we choose to homeschool our children. And I don’t know many homeschooling families who care that the neighbors go to school. Heck, for us it means fewer people at museums and parks.

We get so angry when a newspaper or magazine publishes a piece about homeschooling that makes sweeping generalizations, but it goes both ways. You cannot judge an entire system on a single person anymore than a critic of homeschooling should be able to judge the entire homeschooling community (or the potential influence on the children within a homeschooling community) on a single family. We need to be respectful of the school community if we expect that in return. At the very least, we should avoid being so quick to judge if we don't want others to judge, or define, us based on the actions of a few.

It's not a contest.

Oh, and teachers' lounges? Not as exciting as one might imagine: A few old tables, an old plaid sofa with a couple exposed springs, a microwave with fossilized food particles, and a pot of really bad coffee. No special brownies. And very little time to talk about much of anything, let alone secret plots. I was seriously disappointed.

Missy's homeschooling journey began when she realized that the walls surrounding her daughter's classroom were too narrow; there was no room for exploration, no space for stretching. Now, she and her three children stretch and explore the world together. My blog: caffeinatedjive.

Carol’s Kids

by C.M.Lewis, guest author

“We always felt free and trusted yet also very well cared for.” ~Carol’s kids 

In May of 1979 I was 14, my sister was 12, and my brother was 8. 

It's thirty minutes till Mom gets home!  We sprang into action.  We’d been given a list of things to do for the day and we hadn’t even started!  The three of us and whatever friends happened to be there at the time raced through 3200 square feet of house trying our best to complete the whole list.  The vacuum cleaner mowed through the long, gold, shag carpet while dishes were flying, clothes were being tossed through the air, toys were being shoved into place, and something edible was being concocted in the kitchen.  Our mom was a professional musician and single mom who had to work long hours.

It may seem like we were all afraid of the consequences of not fulfilling “the list”, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.  Our Mom was never the “obey without delay” type.  Her easy going style was always totally nonjudgmental, merciful, and joyful.  She had respect for us and we respected her in return.  We worked so enthusiastically to complete our list because we actually wanted to complete it for our hard working, single mom.  The only reason we even had a list was because we asked for one.  She would come through the door proclaiming that she had the best kids in the world whether or not we had done any house work at all.  Sometimes she was met with a messy house full of kids making music, or a dining room table full of ridiculously large paintings, drawings, or sculptures.  Sometimes she walked into a quiet house where we were all having a serious (to us) philosophical discussion about something like how cool Buddha was or whether stars were really that old or if they had been created by a god with the illusion of age, much like in the “loaves and fishes” Bible story.  (meaning that the loaves of bread weren’t really made from actual wheat that had been grown and made into bread, but that they were supposedly miraculously created in the spur of the moment as loaves of bread, and the fish weren’t fish that had grown from fish eggs into adult fish ready to be eaten, but that they were created in that moment as grown up fish…)  More than once she came in while we were in the process of rearranging the furniture.  One time she came home to find her deck missing, having been reduced to a small stair case just outside the back door, and a new tree house in her back yard.  Every day, when she broke from the huddle of kids who piled around her when she came in, she would go to the kitchen to see what was brewing.  No matter what it was she’d say it was just what she was in the mood for.  We’d all pile around the kitchen table or sit on the counters or floor or wherever we felt like landing where we’d eat and talk about our day and throw an occasional roll across the room to somebody who asked for one.  She never had a problem with our friends being there when she got home.  She genuinely welcomed everyone at any time with her attitude of generous listening and “the more the merrier.” 

Our mom’s philosophy of education was “get a life.”  This was our life.  Our education was a byproduct of that life.  We hadn’t heard the term “unschooling”, but that’s exactly how we were raised.  We learned things naturally and easily.  We didn’t have a support group or co-op, and everyone else we knew went to public school.  But we had good friends from supportive families who trusted our mom enough to let their kids hang out with us as much as possible.

We weren’t like those kids who usually have a lot of externally imposed structure in their lives, or who weren’t accustomed to taking responsibility for the way they used their time.  Very little was required.  Pretty much everything from bed times to what to eat to what activities to participate in was up to each of us individually.  For some who are used to having to be told what to do this might be anxiety producing and overwhelming.  For our friends, and certainly for us, it was one of the best aspects of life at our house.  We were trusted with a lot.  We were expected to live responsibly, and we didn’t even think of living any other way.  We never tried to sneak around or get away with something that was forbidden.  Our mom talked openly with us about everything, making sure we knew her view of right and wrong.  But we were allowed to make our own mistakes, and when one of us made a not so wise decision, she was there for us when it blew up in our faces.  She always allowed us to reap what we sowed.  She compassionately let us go through any natural consequences for our actions, never judging us and always staying right by our side until it was over.  And when we made better decisions, she was always there to celebrate us and cheer us on.  We were instilled with depth and strength of character.  Carol’s kids had maturity, drive, self assuredness, compassion, and openness.  We weren’t afraid of vulnerability.  She made us feel like we could conquer the world.  And we did. 

We are now in our late 30’s or early 40’s, living happy, productive lives with our spouses and as parents of the next generation of unschoolers.  We are still a very close family and our kids are more like siblings than cousins.  We all feel like we have conquered the worlds we have each created for ourselves.  Our unschooling experience provided us with everything we needed to grow up into creative, loving, responsible people.  My brother is living joyfully with his wife and son and working with some of his best friends as the IT administrator of an international company.  My sister and I both have Master’s Degrees in fields we are each passionate about, but we and our husbands chose to dedicate this time we will never get back to our children by providing them with stay at home moms.  We all agree that we are exactly who we were meant to be.  Our mom is our hero. 

Chrisi lives in Vinings, GA with her husband, Rob, who is a Production Engineer for Turner Broadcasting, and their 15 year old daughter, Rachel who has never been to school.  Their family website is www.justcousins.net or you can get in touch with Chrisi on myspace at www.myspace.com/onlymechrisi or on facebook by searching the name Chrisi Lewis. 

Mother Doesn't Always Know Best

by Becky

At Park Day last week, five or six of us were chatting in the shade while our children played in the blazing sun.  A mom new to homeschooling asked if our group was exclusive to unschoolers.  It's not.  Many of us use the term unschooler to describe our particular style, but there are several who do not.  "I just don't know what to call myself, " our newbie declared.  "Some days I think we're unschooling and other days I'm just not sure."

Lively discussion followed about how each of us had settled on our particular versions of homeschooling.  Unanimously, we all shared that our original intentions had been left behind after just a few months.  My story is similar.  As a former elementary school teacher, I never dreamed I would be keeping my own children home from school.  I certainly never would've guessed we'd be unschooling.  As we sat on that blanket and talked about our individual choices to homeschool, I realized that the various labels we use mean far less to me now than they once did.  As far as I can tell, homeschooling parents all have something important in common:  We all question the value of sending children to school, and we feel empowered enough to do something different.

I've read and participated in countless arguments about the interpretation of the term unschooling.  John Holt originally coined the term in 1977 as a way of differentiating between school-at-homers and other less structured styles.  My problem with the term is that it states merely what we don't do.  We don't sit at the kitchen table and do lessons.  We don't fabricate learning.  We don't spend hours every day at school.  I believe that what we do is far more descriptive.  We hike, we cook, we play, we bike, we read, we create, we invent, we dance, we investigate, we sing, we perform, we write, we draw, we paint, we plant, we harvest, we explore, we predict, we ponder, we take apart, we fix, we day dream, and if there's time, we do nothing at all.

My unschooling life may look very different from yours.  That's the beauty of it, in my mind.  Every family is different, every child is different, every parent is different.  How could we possibly do it the same and still stay true to our unique selves?  Freedom from school means freedom to be ourselves, to do things in our own way.  I do love connecting with other like-minded families.  It feels great to have those juicy conversations where you know you're being understood on a very deep, meaningful level.  But I've given up the notion that we all need to be homeschooling in the same way.  The self righteousness I may have projected early on may have been an important part of my development as an unschooling mom.  That passion was my way of securing my own beliefs about learning.   But I certainly don't know what's best for someone else, and often, I don't even know what's best for my kids.  But they do.

I recently read an interview with a grown unschooler.  She talked about how, in her new role as the parent of a toddler, she is learning to let go of solutions.  This is just what I needed to hear.  Brilliant!  I may not have all the answers!  I'm not necessarily the expert!  Phew.  I love it!  She suggested that she may be doing her child a great disservice by continually showing up with a pre-determined set of solutions.  Often, she reasoned, what is most helpful, is to let go and enter into a difficult situation or conflict with a completely open mind.

This really resonates with me, but I often struggle with actually doing it.  For me, unschooling is all about experiencing life with an open mind.  So much about our life as a family is about approaching life on life's terms.  My kids have already figured out that there are very few musts in our daily living.  If something isn't working, you try it another way.  If you aren't happy with your circumstances, you change them.  And yet, how often do I, as a parent; the older, wiser, supposed leader of the pack, assume that I know what's best?  How often do I sabotage my children's independence and creativity by bringing my (older, wiser....more exhausted) solutions to their difficulties?  Too often, I'm afraid.

I remember when my two oldest children were about 2 and 4 years old.  They played together constantly.  Dress-up, house, fairies, make believe.  Most days they started the moment they woke up and hardly stopped for a break before bedtime.  Along with all of this play came an enormous amount of bickering and fighting.  In the beginning, I would jump in and attempt to "help" them sort things out before things escalated.  Sometimes my efforts were helpful, but often they weren't.  As a matter of fact, I slowly began to realize that my supposed "solutions" were actually making things worse.  After a few botched attempts to "talk things out" I began to realize that the girls did a much better job working things out without me.

This same realization is coming back around for me 8 years and a third child later.  It is often said that as we are unschooling our children, we are deschooling ourselves.  Most days it seems I have a never ending supply of opportunities for growth as a parent.  My three children remind me constantly that they know what they need, when they need it.  When I hit a snag and try to assert myself into their struggles, it's helpful for me to ask myself:  What's my motivation?  Am I trying to  help my children find what's best for them?  Or am I simply trying to make myself feel better?  If the latter is true, it's time to back off and keep the focus on me.  What's best for me?  What do I need to do in order to  be the best me I can be?  Surely this modeling is the  ideal way to share my wisdom and experience with my kids.

Mainstream parenting doesn't support this, however.  Ah, well.  Yet another opportunity to swim upstream and stand up for my kids.  When faced with the strange looks or blank stares on the faces of those who don't understand why I allow my children to make their own choices, I've found it's best for me to tune out popular parenting culture and tune in to me.  My current lesson appears to be something along the lines of, "Mother doesn't always know best."  When I remember to trust my children and to let go of the notion that my job is to solve all their problems and smooth out their difficulties, life is pretty darn good.

Becky is the unschooling mother of three (Janey, 11, Macy, 10 and Charley, 7) attempting to raise her children with compassion and respect.  She taught elementary school for 9 years before discovering unschooling when it was time for her oldest to go to Kindergarten.  She credits Sandra Dodd, Mary Griffith, Jan Hunt, and just about every other person she interacted with at her first HSC Home=Education conference 6 years ago, as her inspiration to find a more natural way of living and learning with children.  She is a Homeschooling Consultant, offering support and guidance to families looking to clarify their vision as a family of learners.  You can read more of what Becky has to say at http://lifewithoutschool.blogspot.com   She can be reached at homeschoolconsultant@gmailcom.

History Sucks

by Laureen

My husband (Jason) and my brother in law (Marc) both self-identify as "stupid". It's a long story. Anyway... in school, they were bad boys,  dropouts, and allllll the other labels that tell kids that they're useless. I've written about how patently ridiculous this, and what I think of that set of labels in a previous post, "The Crooked Lawn". When we talk about our school experiences, both of them say things like "I hate history" and "math sucks" and that kind of thing. It's saddening to me that the wounds inflicted by the system still sting so much so many years down the road.

But anyway...

So we live in California, and this is "the year" that Rowan would officially start school. I'm ready to go with the official paperwork, a little nervous just because the unknown (in terms of paperwork, documentation, etc.), is nervous-making for me, but having hung out here and in a few other places and talked to successful unschoolers, I'm feeling  confident that this is  the right choice for us.

Jason's not so sure. He hasn't done as much work as I have on figuring this out, so he's still a bit wobbly about the particulars. He trusts me, he trusts his boys, and he's willing to work through his internal wobbles, but they're still there. His chiefest worry is that someone, anyone, will cut loose with the dreaded "s" word at his children. He and his brother have endured that their whole lives, and he would prefer they avoid that. It's a fair concern.

Night before last, the boys crashed out early, so Jason and I got to stay up and watch "300". Jason's a Frank Miller fan, and I dig history, so we thought it would be fun (even though I acknowledge freely that the film was based off the graphic novel which was based off a film which was based off of writings which may or may not have been accurate descriptions of the actual battle...). We watched. I dug it; lots of good, inspiring, battlefield inspirational speeches, some great blue- and greenscreen magic, all that good stuff. I made some offhand comments about Spartans not doing flying wedges, and certainly not with round shields, Jason told me about something he'd read about the director using that formation because "it looked cool", and we talked about dramatic license.

Last night, Marc asked me what I'd thought of it. So we started talking about ancient battles. Marc asked where Thermopylae was. Jason popped onto Wikipedia, looked it up, we started discussing it. Jason asked me a question about shields, so we talked about that for a while. Jason found a site about the real Xerxes, and about the Iranian government's response to the film. We talked about ancient civilizations and their modern derivatives and how very different they can be.

Marc pointed out (having read the Wikipedia entry) that significant bits of the Persian navy were wiped out by storms, and that Leonides' stand helped give the Athenian navy time to prepare to deal with the remaining Persian navy, so wouldn't it be fun to go sail there, and check it out (especially since that is not a tourist destination from sea). From there, we discussed battlefield tourism in Europe and the Mediterranean, and while that was happening, Marc found a Netflix instant-watch documentary about ancient civilizations, specifically Egyptian early construction, and we watched some of that, while they kept bouncing between the film and the laptop, connecting the dots between timelines they were aware of, and timelines they weren't (one person in the documentary commented that the tomb he was in was already 1000 years old before Moses left Egypt, and that intrigued Marc, so Jason bounced up some more stuff on the laptop...)

And I poked Jason in the ribs, and said "you're the boy who says history sucks, right?" He kinda smiled. I said "this is unschooling. Look at all the ground you guys just covered, because it was neat and cool and you're curious. Look where your curiosity just took us." His eyes got wide, and I swear I heard the light bulb click.

Looks like it's time for some dolmas. =)

Laureen is a writer, a professional editor, a scuba instructor, a beginning  sailor, a traveler, and an obsessive researcher who's chiefly focused  on, and delighted with, her husband Jason and her sons Rowan and  Kestrel. She's a lifelong Californian, which lends a very distinctive  spin to both her ideas and her politics, and she's discovered, in her  peregrinations, that the world is far smaller yet far more fascinating  than anyone gives it credit for being. She holds forth her opinions on  that in her blog, The ElementalMom.

My Four-Year-Old Teaches Me to Read

by Steph W.

My four-year-old, Patricia Elizabeth, recently created her first book. Like many young kids, she is surrounded with writing in various forms. Her older sister, 13-year-old Sarah, writes novels. Nine-year-old James creates pictures and comic strips with captions. While Sarah writes novels in spiral notebooks and James lays out his creations in sketchbooks, I tap away at the computer.

In the midst of all this, Patricia Elizabeth decided to make a book. She asked for some paper and tape and set to work. It didn't resemble a book in the conventional sense, but one can see that the separate "pages" contain "words." Later Trishy announced that she wanted me to read her book to her for bedtime story. She was disappointed when I balked. Why couldn't I read it? "But the words are here." She pointed to the letter-like markings on her book.

Trishy has recently become interested in learning to read. When I read to her, she sometimes has me point to each word. Often she'll have me read each word again and again until she thinks she has the hang of it. She hasn't yet grasped the concept of  decoding letters and words. For example, she doesn't recognize that "t-h-e" says "the" every time she sees it or that "b" makes a certain sound. But she has fathomed that the answer to the riddle lies in assigning a meaning to each word.  Faced with her disappointment at my not being able to read her book for bedtime story, and with her newfound interest in learning to read in mind, I said, "Could you teach me to read this book?"

Delighted, she rose to the task. She pointed to each "word" in the book, "reading" it again and again. In this way, the full story emerged:

"The deer got shot. The cat jumped under the tree stump. The cat ran away."

She pointed to each "word," repeating it again and again. She read me the book several times, then when she figured I had the hang of it, she had me read it back to her.

This is the first time I've had one of my kids teach me to read. But I have always been fascinated with the way young children, if left mostly to their own devices, find their own paths to learning to read and write. Each stage of the journey to learning to literacy emerges in its own time. As Julie Bogart pointed out in The Writer's Jungle, we can't really speed it up or slow it down, but we can nurture and encourage each stage as it happens. If we don't interfere with them too much, children's ways of learning are innovative and laced with the joy of discovery and personal ownership.

When my oldest was four, she was on the verge of learning to read, relying on her rich visual memory, and she was always drawing pictures and telling or dictating stories to go with them. Even then, all her pictures and ideas had to tell a story. Reading the signs that she was ready, I eagerly swooped in -- with Dr. Seuss and Amanda Pig in hand -- to teach her to read. In retrospect, I think I was way off the mark. Instead of encouraging and nurturing her blossoming abilities, I took over. I shoved her out of the driver's seat. Ultimately, my approach probably caused more problems than it solved. On the positive side, now that she's a teenager, we still enjoy reading and writing together. (Fortunately for us amateur parents, there are few irreparable mistakes. :-) Everything we do, good and bad, kind of just gets woven into our lives.)

After surviving my enthusiastically teaching her to read, Sarah turned five and started school. There she encountered more challenges from adults with an agenda. She was reading the "wrong way," sight reading with few phonics skills. She also wasn't attempting to write, at least not in the standard way. Her elaborate and often undecipherable pictures, which told stories, did not exactly fit the requirements of the Standards of Learning. I was told, again and again, that Sarah needed to be writing with "invented spelling."

"Invented spelling" is one of the stages many children naturally go through in their efforts to teach themselves to write. John Holt has written about it, and I'm sure others have too. Applying the phonics rules they have learned so far, with a dash of imagination, they spell words the way they think they sound. (I have a 9-year-old who still writes this way).

School systems have come to understand this, and they have turned it on its head by requiring the kids to write with "invented spelling." As with many things, if it doesn't emerge naturally, it doesn't work. Again, well meaning adults have gone from observing, nurturing, and encouraging each stage of development to trying to control the whole process.

By the time my son was in Kindergarten, we were home schooling. This time, I didn't rush things so much. But I eagerly tried every reading program on the market, including Teach a Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons, Teach a Child to Read with Children's Books and Phonics Pathways. None of them was a good fit for James. In the end I taught him some basic phonics skills that I knew would stand him in good stead when he was ready to learn to read, and I left him to his own devices. He taught himself to read, when he was about 8, with Calvin and Hobbes. (He quickly caught up to "grade level.") By then, I had gained enough wisdom to stand back and watch, reveling in the moments when he quickly decoded a long word that would not be found in any leveled reader. I answered questions when asked, but mostly I just stood back, encouraged him a bit, and enjoyed being an observer.

Now that I have learned from all my mistakes with the older kids, Trishy may have an easier path. That remains to be seen. :-) Meanwhile, I am reveling in the ways she creates her own path to learning and enjoying those glorious moments which illuminate the way her mind works. Now that she has "taught me to read" I am sure many more unexpected discoveries are in store.

Stephanie W. lives with her family in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She has been learning at home full time with her three wonderfully creative, feisty and quirky children -- Sarah (13), James (9) & Patricia Elizabeth (4) since 2003. Her other interests include literature, writing, editing, and the internet.

Successful

Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful. - Albert Schweitzer

A few questions we hope to address:

• What is success?
• What do children need in order to feel successful?
• What do children need in order to be successful?
• Is success a product or a journey? or both?
• How does one measure success?
• Can one measure success for another?
• What does one need to be successful in our society and how does one attain that success?
• How does one define a successful education and a successful "student?"
• Is a "good education" necessary for one to be successful?

These stories, commentary & vignettes offer a view into how and why we live life without school.

Vignettes

Sitting on the beach with another mom that I've only known for a short while, I had the chance to discuss homeschooling with her. Turns out she leans as heavily to unschooling as I do, and – not surprisingly – has faced the same concerns. Those questions that seem to hover at the edge of the conviction that this is the right choice seem to be universal: Are they getting what they need? Is it doing them a disservice to be so different in our education plan? Are they going to be successful?

That final question led to a great conversation about just what defines successful. I have always said that if my kids grow up to be happy and can provide for themselves, then they will indeed be successful, regardless of whether or not the rest of the world would classify them as such. And, you must know that when I say "providing for themselves" I simply mean that they no longer depend upon me or their dad to pay their expenses. I have no financial expectations for the boys. I will not measure their success by how much they earn – to me, that's not important. If they choose to spend some time touring the USA in a VW Bus and working their way from town to town, I say go for it; what a great opportunity that would be. If they choose to work part time and live a frugal life so that they can pursue their non-paid interests, just grand. If they choose to focus on becoming a millionaire, that's fine with me too, so long as they remain true to their hearts and are happy.

Happiness and a passion for life are much more important to me than a big bankroll. I believe that the style of education, the style of life that my kids are living creates that passion for life. Even if us moms have to talk through it on occasion to be reminded that we are doing the "right" thing.

~Kris Bordessa, author of Great Medieval Projects You Can Build Yourself (Nomad Press, 2008)
www.krisbordessa.com

I think I redefine my concept of "success" everyday as I ask myself these questions:

What do I really want in life?

What makes me feel happy, competent, and complete  today in this moment in time?

What are my personal long term goals? What does life require of me to accomplish my goals? How do I choose to reach them? The concept of "success" as a measure of who I am and how I am performing in comparison to others or to a standard set by society can fall away into a meaningless puddle when I ask myself these questions. When my children question and challenge what I think or society thinks is important for them to learn, they are fine tuning their abilites to take responsiblity of their lives; and if I must use the term "success" in the context of their lives, it would be defined by the ability, willingess, honesty, and will to define and direct their own personal goals, ideals, and happiness. ~Robin

Stories and Commentary

Success, by Lune

It has taken me a good while to arrive at an idea of success that sits happily in my own mind. And this idea may seem very ‘insignificant’ to others, because it had nothing to do with grandiose goals or achievements; it is very ‘in the moment’ and very close to the earth....

Success or Failure? by Cindy

I ended my last post about my oldest son, Eric's, first experience with formal education through a dual-enrollment community college program.  He had taken two courses with very different instructors and expectations for what made up his end grade.  Eric had brought his unschooling perspective into the classroom with him and did well with a professor whose grading recognized and reflected the real learning that occurred within the confines of my son's mind.  He didn't score as well with the traditional professor and the traditional grading expectations that simply reflected the hoops he was meant to jump through versus the learning that was accomplished.  Eric was at a crossroads for his learning path....

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