"The School in my Head"
[email protected]
In a message dated 5/16/04 5:03:43 PM, kellibac@... writes:
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
Backstrom kelli
<Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.>
I read your article the other day in the library while my kids were looking through books and videos. I remembered the whole article but somehow missed this one little part, the most important part for me today. Funny how you can read over something like that and have it returned to you when you most needed it. I feel so blessed that my children are so young and I can give this gift to them. Thanks for the words, Kelli
SandraDodd@... wrote:
In a message dated 5/16/04 5:03:43 PM, kellibac@... writes:
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
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and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.>
I read your article the other day in the library while my kids were looking through books and videos. I remembered the whole article but somehow missed this one little part, the most important part for me today. Funny how you can read over something like that and have it returned to you when you most needed it. I feel so blessed that my children are so young and I can give this gift to them. Thanks for the words, Kelli
SandraDodd@... wrote:
In a message dated 5/16/04 5:03:43 PM, kellibac@... writes:
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
"List Posting Policies" are provided in the files area of this group.
Visit the Unschooling website and message boards: http://www.unschooling.com
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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
Backstrom kelli
Jeez, and they can give this gift to me, too!
Backstrom kelli <kellibac@...> wrote:<Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.>
I read your article the other day in the library while my kids were looking through books and videos. I remembered the whole article but somehow missed this one little part, the most important part for me today. Funny how you can read over something like that and have it returned to you when you most needed it. I feel so blessed that my children are so young and I can give this gift to them. Thanks for the words, Kelli
SandraDodd@... wrote:
In a message dated 5/16/04 5:03:43 PM, kellibac@... writes:
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
"List Posting Policies" are provided in the files area of this group.
Visit the Unschooling website and message boards: http://www.unschooling.com
Yahoo! Groups SponsorADVERTISEMENT
---------------------------------
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To visit your group on the web, go to:
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---------------------------------
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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
"List Posting Policies" are provided in the files area of this group.
Visit the Unschooling website and message boards: http://www.unschooling.com
Yahoo! Groups SponsorADVERTISEMENT
---------------------------------
Yahoo! Groups Links
To visit your group on the web, go to:
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---------------------------------
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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
Backstrom kelli <kellibac@...> wrote:<Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.>
I read your article the other day in the library while my kids were looking through books and videos. I remembered the whole article but somehow missed this one little part, the most important part for me today. Funny how you can read over something like that and have it returned to you when you most needed it. I feel so blessed that my children are so young and I can give this gift to them. Thanks for the words, Kelli
SandraDodd@... wrote:
In a message dated 5/16/04 5:03:43 PM, kellibac@... writes:
<< I am so bad that I do things like have a glorious relaxing day with them
and just live in that moment that you all talk about so eloquently and then
think things like "successful, A+, milestone" to describe my day. I know, its
ludocrous but I am trying to be as honest as possible because I really want to
try and get this (and get it right, maybe I'll get an A:) just kidding) >>
I totally understand.
And reading your very sensible way of thinking reminds me that it's time to
put my March/April HEM column online. The newer issue is out, so the old one's
mine again. That March article was called "The School in my Head."
The School in my Head
"Nobody's perfect," they say, and I have been challenged to reveal my own
doubts and failings. I don't mind.
I still have a school in my head. Witness my total unwillingness to go to
Disney World. That is a definite "nope" for me, and the only thing that would
help would be more deschooling. That might happen, but I would rather settle
for the more comfortable Disneyland.
Here is the true and embarrassing reason that I can love Disneyland and fear
Disney World: I can score a higher percentage at Disneyland. I can do better
than 80%, maybe 90% if I stay three days. I have heard from many people
that one would have to stay at Disney World a week to see it all. So I don't
want to go, because if I see any less than 70% that would not be a passing
grade.
I see the world in terms of percentage grades. I have a "grading" overlay
behind my eyes somehow that still hasn't totally faded out. It's sad but true.
For some people it's even worse, though. Some people can't leave school
because they're carrying it around like a snail and his shell. They live there,
still. School became an ingrown, hard part of them. They still define
themselves by their school failures and successes.
How does a person who has gone to school for twelve years or thirteen or
sixteen or twenty years get over all that programming and all those messages?
Slowly, and with effort, and sometimes school can still flood back in or ooze
around the edges. Can they find their school-less selves?
Last year I forgot school was out, and offered to help a friend of mine in
one of her history classes. It was July, though, and she said, "Cool! When
school starts." She needed to borrow some chain mail, but not in summer.
That seemed like progress, for me to have been unaware of "school year" for a
while.
Every September, "back to school" kicks in. I crave the smell of crayons and
new pencils. I like to go down the school supply aisle at the store and
admire packages of paper, and new binders. My kids still have the binders
they've had for years and they don't need new ones. I don't either, yet I'm drawn
there like a migratory bird that has to pass over familiar ground at the same
time every year.
I like the appearance of the letter "A" much better than I like to see a "D"
or an "F." My maiden name started with "A", and my married name starts with
"D." "D" is not as good. Those letters are branded into my brain with their
"values" from school.
But little scars like that are only irritations or curiosities. I regret
scars and imperfections and little sorrows, but though they slow me down, they
don't cripple me. I can see through and over them.
School is part of me, and I am part of the school memories of many people,
whether as a schoolmate or as their teacher. But school is not a part of my
children, nor they of school.
Sometimes people say to me, "You're patient with your own children but pushy
with unschooling parents." I don't go door to door asking people if they
know about unschooling, and whether they'd like to know more. If they come
where I already am, though, I might press. And when I do, it's because of the
possibility that they will run out of time.
My kids have their whole lives to memorize 7x8 if they want to.
The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little time if she wants to help her
child recover from school and spend a few unschooling years with him before
he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease into it gradually. If she
stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just won't happen.
If the mother of a five year old is trying to decide how much reading
instruction and math drill to continue with before she switches to unschooling, I
would rather press her to decide toward "none," because "some" is damaging to the
child's potential to learn it joyfully and discover it on his own. And "lots"
will only hurt that much more. "None" can still be turned to "some" if the
parent can't get unschooling. But if she doesn't even try unschooling, she
misses forever the opportunity to see that child learn to read gradually and
naturally. It will be gone forever.
Forever.
That's why I don't say, "Gosh, I'm sure whatever you're
doing is fine, and if you want to unschool you can
come to it gradually at your own pace. No hurry."
People say jokingly (though it's true) of their late-reading children, "I'm
sure he'll be reading by the time he goes on a date." The same cannot be said
of unschooling, though, if the parent is attached to thinking she needs to
teach things.
Until a person stops doing the things that keep unschooling from working,
unschooling cannot begin to work.
It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen for a sound, you have to
stop talking and be still.
Some people want to see unschooling while they're still teaching and putzing
and assigning and requiring.
They have to stop that first. And then they have to be still. And then they
have to look at their children with new eyes.
If they don't, it won't happen.
I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I haven't taught those categories
and prejudices to my children. Science has much more to do with history
than geology has to do with microbiology, but in school geology, biology,
astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and history is different altogether.
Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge cultures had and how
they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron tool use, medicine or
communications.
Holly asked yesterday about when people discovered the world wasn't flat. I
told her there was no one date or century because people discovered different
things at different times, and some were shushed up when they said the world
was round, or that the sun didn't orbit around the earth. I also told her,
"Ask your dad, because he's really interested in the history of science."
I noticed when I said it that I had "named subject areas," but I didn't feel
too bad. She's twelve, and reading, and after all "the history of science"
was never part of my schooling. A science teacher wasn't certified to teach me
history, and vice versa. Only outside of school did I figure out that
scientific discoveries were history, and that music was science, and that art was
history.
School served to prevent connections for me, but I overcame that, with
difficulty. It is a problem my children never had. If Animaniacs completed a
circuit for them between Magellan and WWII, well it's a circuit school would never
have completed for me under any circumstances. If learning for fun creates
more connections than "serious learning" did, I can no longer look at "serious
learning" seriously.
The best function of the school in my head, as it turns out, is to remind me
where not to dwell. I did my time in and around school, and learned things
painstakingly and grudgingly that my children later learned while laughing and
playing and singing. I have guarded my children's freedom and given them happy
choices that I didn't have.
I know from school that the best way to end an essay is to tie it back to the
beginning, but these birds cannot nest where I started. They are a
generation removed and have flown freely out and about without a school to return to in
September. But wait: if I take 10% off the essay for a weak ending, I do
indeed tie it back, and so might yet get an "A."
Quite pathetic, but it makes me feel better.
---------------
Sandra Dodd lives in Albuquerque and has three tall young people in her
family who have never been to school. A former teacher, former good student,
Junior Honor Society member and one-time officer of the safety patrol, Sandra will
probably never
"List Posting Policies" are provided in the files area of this group.
Visit the Unschooling website and message boards: http://www.unschooling.com
Yahoo! Groups SponsorADVERTISEMENT
---------------------------------
Yahoo! Groups Links
To visit your group on the web, go to:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/UnschoolingDiscussion/
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
[email protected]
Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service.
---------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
SBC Yahoo! - Internet access at a great low price.
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
"List Posting Policies" are provided in the files area of this group.
Visit the Unschooling website and message boards: http://www.unschooling.com
Yahoo! Groups SponsorADVERTISEMENT
---------------------------------
Yahoo! Groups Links
To visit your group on the web, go to:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/UnschoolingDiscussion/
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
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Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service.
---------------------------------
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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
Kelly Ferry
--- SandraDodd@... wrote:
time just squeezing my son away from me, he'll be 12
in July and still holds fast to the desire to stay in
school for social reasons. I have spent the past
couple of months attempting to let go of my own school
thinking, and letting him stay home if he wants to.
I've been trying to shut my mouth and just support him
in his need to just lay around and do nothing, to
decompress and think and mull things over. I guess
I've succeeded about 50% of the time. That's an F.
I'm concerned because he mostly wants to stay home-but
won't leave school. I know his biggest fear is that
he'll be stuck at home with me, having to hang out
with his baby sister who is only 10 months old. I'm
trying to get us out there, involved in some
activities and meeting some people, but it's taking
time. 2 weeks until 5th grade is over. I'm so worried
that we'll get through the summer and he will still
want to go back.
Kelly
__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Domains � Claim yours for only $14.70/year
http://smallbusiness.promotions.yahoo.com/offer
>time
>> The mother of a twelve year old has VERY little
> if she wants to help herThis is exactly what I feel so panicked about. I feel
> child recover from school and spend a few
> unschooling years with him before
> he's grown and gone. She doesn't have time to ease
> into it gradually. If she
> stalls, he'll be fifteen or sixteen and it just
> won't happen.
time just squeezing my son away from me, he'll be 12
in July and still holds fast to the desire to stay in
school for social reasons. I have spent the past
couple of months attempting to let go of my own school
thinking, and letting him stay home if he wants to.
I've been trying to shut my mouth and just support him
in his need to just lay around and do nothing, to
decompress and think and mull things over. I guess
I've succeeded about 50% of the time. That's an F.
I'm concerned because he mostly wants to stay home-but
won't leave school. I know his biggest fear is that
he'll be stuck at home with me, having to hang out
with his baby sister who is only 10 months old. I'm
trying to get us out there, involved in some
activities and meeting some people, but it's taking
time. 2 weeks until 5th grade is over. I'm so worried
that we'll get through the summer and he will still
want to go back.
Kelly
>=== message truncated ===
> Until a person stops doing the things that keep
> unschooling from working,
> unschooling cannot begin to work.
>
> It seems simple to me. If you're trying to listen
> for a sound, you have to
> stop talking and be still.
>
> Some people want to see unschooling while they're
> still teaching and putzing
> and assigning and requiring.
>
> They have to stop that first. And then they have to
> be still. And then they
> have to look at their children with new eyes.
>
> If they don't, it won't happen.
>
> I still see "subject areas" everywhere, but I
> haven't taught those categories
> and prejudices to my children. Science has much
> more to do with history
> than geology has to do with microbiology, but in
> school geology, biology,
> astronomy and physics are all "the same thing," and
> history is different altogether.
> Yet the best parts of history involve the knowledge
> cultures had and how
> they put it to use, whether in shipbuilding or iron
> tool use, medicine or
> communications.
>
>
__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Domains � Claim yours for only $14.70/year
http://smallbusiness.promotions.yahoo.com/offer
[email protected]
In a message dated 5/20/04 11:44:58 AM, kpacklight@... writes:
<< I'm so worried
that we'll get through the summer and he will still
want to go back. >>
Try to focus on undoing the worry, then. If he has a really peaceful
summer, that will be a reality and a memory for him whether he goes to school or
not. If he has a nervous-mom, self-conscious, over-examined summer, he might
want to go back to school because of that! <g>
-=- If you're trying to listen
21 a good May 21. To as well or better on May 22, if you can. Don't plan TOO
hard for May 23...
Don't waste May 21 worrying about September 7.
Sandra
<< I'm so worried
that we'll get through the summer and he will still
want to go back. >>
Try to focus on undoing the worry, then. If he has a really peaceful
summer, that will be a reality and a memory for him whether he goes to school or
not. If he has a nervous-mom, self-conscious, over-examined summer, he might
want to go back to school because of that! <g>
-=- If you're trying to listen
> for a sound, you have toDon't make the summer a preparation for all future homeschooling. Make May
> stop talking and be still. -=-
21 a good May 21. To as well or better on May 22, if you can. Don't plan TOO
hard for May 23...
Don't waste May 21 worrying about September 7.
Sandra
Kelly Ferry
--- SandraDodd@... wrote:
I'm so aware of how much of this is about me, and I'm
very willing to work on it. It's such a process...
this new math assignment in which the kids have to
hold down a job and earn a living and keep their
finances balanced. He said he couldn't believe how
ridiculous it was to pretend something like that and
how he wished he had time to get a real job and earn
some real money. Then he said that he's pretty sure he
wants to homeschool next year and had a bunch of
questions about what would happen. So we're moving
forward even when I feel like we're moving backwards.
Life is so interesting.
I will try to heed your advice about keeping it day to
day. It's very wise.
thank you so much
Kelly
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>YES! THank you! That's exactly what I needed to hear.
>
> Try to focus on undoing the worry, then. If he has
> a really peaceful
> summer, that will be a reality and a memory for him
> whether he goes to school or
> not. If he has a nervous-mom, self-conscious,
> over-examined summer, he might
> want to go back to school because of that! <g>
>
> -=- If you're trying to listen
> > for a sound, you have to
> > stop talking and be still. -=-
I'm so aware of how much of this is about me, and I'm
very willing to work on it. It's such a process...
>On May 20 on our way to karate, he was talking about
> Don't make the summer a preparation for all future
> homeschooling. Make May
> 21 a good May 21. To as well or better on May 22,
> if you can. Don't plan TOO
> hard for May 23...
>
> Don't waste May 21 worrying about September 7.
this new math assignment in which the kids have to
hold down a job and earn a living and keep their
finances balanced. He said he couldn't believe how
ridiculous it was to pretend something like that and
how he wished he had time to get a real job and earn
some real money. Then he said that he's pretty sure he
wants to homeschool next year and had a bunch of
questions about what would happen. So we're moving
forward even when I feel like we're moving backwards.
Life is so interesting.
I will try to heed your advice about keeping it day to
day. It's very wise.
thank you so much
Kelly
>__________________________________
> Sandra
>
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