Unexpected Outcomes of Unschooling

Tell what I first expected.
Tell what I first started to see.

Tell what I’ve seen since and in retrospect.


I didn’t expect this to change my children’s ability to make eye contact with people.

It surprises me that they have friends of such a range of ages.

I didn’t expect them to learn so much without me.
I thought I wouldn’t miss a single thing.
I missed Roman numerals (MegaMan)

If the life is all a-swirl, they WILL learn, so you guarantee the learning 



I didn’t expect Kirby and Marty to be offered jobs they didn’t even apply for.  
	won’t happen with everyone
	HAS happened with some other unschoolers
		(not JUST with unschoolers, but I don’t think
		these jobs would have come to these boys 
		had they been in school)

I didn’t know that our relationships could stay so good even when they were teenagers.
The side benefits are family togetherness, common experiences,  and fun!
	As partners and supporters, if one of is having fun, the others are glad, and happy, and often right in the midst of that same fun.

 
I didn’t know they would be so compassionate.

Partly they weren’t taught to be cold, by school prejudices.
Partly, they have had a gentle life, and they NOTICE harshness.

being compassionate about kids' changes can help affect how   
adults respond to their own and each others' needs and  changes.

GAIL Higgins WROTE:

I've been thinking about some things along these same lines for several  
days.   I'm noticing all the unexpected bonuses that came along with  our 
unschooling lifestyle.  As I became more aware of my kids needs and responded to that 
it just naturally carried over to my husband.
 
Our relationship is so much stronger now and part of it is just because I'm  
nicer now!  :-)
I think I used to be so controlling of our lives that it affected us all in a  
negative way.  I'm still working on it but just the awareness 
of what I was doing 
has led to changes.
 
There are very few times when our lives don't seem in harmony these days...it's the best bonus I could have every imagined.
 
	
Jill P. wrote at unschooling.info:

When I started  unschooling and consequently mindful parenting, I didn't realize the  effect it would have on my kids, 
an awareness about how conventional  parenting is disrespectful and downright nasty, 
how upset my kids  would feel when they saw it, 
and their disbelief that most of society condones it.

One night dd, Addi (almost 11), came  home from her neighbor friend's house full of stories about how the  parents (a mom and stepdad) treated the daughter, wondering how it  could be like that, and what she could do about it.

While the girls were playing the parents told the daughter to help them clean up branches and sticks in the backyard.  Addi chose to participate.  Well, the daughter wasn't helping enough and so the parents, after  making comments about how helpful Addi was and the daughter wasn't,  told the daughter to clean up the rest. 
Addi couldn't believe  parents would treat someone like that, 
and it was very sad to her to  see the look of pain 
	on her friend's face. 
So, she helped the girl  clean up the rest of the yard, 
	and tried to comfort her.

The  nasty treatment continued at dinner. Addi said her friend's face  dropped into deep sadness when she asked for some ice cream also.   I understand that Addi had just been given some.) And the parents said  that she couldn't have any until she finished her salad. Addi was appalled, and took her ice cream back in the kitchen and asked that  it be put in the freezer, and she would eat it when her friend got some. Addi told me that she just couldn't eat it, it didn't even taste good! unless she could eat it with her friend.

When Addi came home and told me how those parents "shamed" the daughter, she asked me how she could handle that situation...what she should "say to those parents". I said that her actions spoke louder than words, and that she and we could treat her friend with kindness and  respect.


~Jill

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About five years ago, 
Holly was swimming with a young neighbor and her youngish uncle, who was pretty much her primary caregiver. 
 He was house-sitting a third neighbor’s pool (so right near) and…   he would not let his niece get out and get her towel.  
She was cold, and wanted to get out and sit with the towel.  
	The answer was no.   
Holly looked at all that, got out of the water, walked over, got the towel and brought it to the girl.

That was brave, I think.  Holly probably didn’t think “brave.”


I’m impressed when they show real-world courage.
Holly at the zoo.
Marty with his friend from hockey.

I didn’t expect to like to lose arguments.

I enjoy it when my kids win an argument with me or Keith.  We've laughed about that later when we're alone.  Keith used to be bothered if they were that way, years ago.  He didn't call it "talking back" or anything, but he was surprised each time he saw it.  I told him I figured if they could win arguments with me, they'd do okay for themselves out in the world.  That made sense to him, so he started willingly engaging them in "yeah, but..." kinds of discussions, and as time passed we all got better at it and clearer about our priorities.

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I didn’t know I would be so accepting of kids saying “no.”

We have a piece of furniture Keith built years ago, a corner shelf with electricity built in in three places.  Unfortunately, it's not heavily grounded three-prong stuff.  Still, for several reasons it needed to be moved, and we were talking the dump, because I thought I remembered it having had its cord removed when we moved it to this house.  It was in the sewing room stuffed with books and patterns and cloth.

When I unloaded it to take it to the dump. I became nostalgic.  It's big and bulky, but it used to be our stereo shelf, and hold the turntable and speakers and tapes and...  And the electricity WAS still working, every outlet.  And it would hold Marty's TV.  And Marty's been talking about getting the little old couch out of his room.

So I thought if Marty wants it, that could be lots of good.

Marty did.  Now?  Not right now.

Oh.  He can take it in a few days.  

And that was really okay.  Marty had good reasons to wait and we were just as calm with a kid saying "wait" as we would've been with one of us saying it to the other.  And there's a place it can wait, and since we parked it in the corner where the cat box was, near the washing machine, we've had time to consider where Marty needs to cut a hole for the Playstation cords to go down, and what he might need to hold controllers, and what else he can get rid of in his room.  "Wait" has been more beneficial than any of us knew.   

I think most parents would have said, "No, we're doing it now; stop what you're doing, cancel your plans for tomorrow, it's our house..." and the furniture would've been imbued with sorrow and frustration, the kids would have remembered those things when he saw it, the parents would have thought less of the kids, the kid thought less of the parents, and so in on several directions.  But here because we really listen to Marty and he's accustomed to making good arguments instead of just building up to an outburst...  "things are good" is so light and lame for the many levels, the depth and the breadth of the benefits of us having allowed and encouraged argument from our kids that it's almost embarrassing for me to try to describe how good it is.[/green]

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I didn’t expect it to make things so sweet between me and Keith.

PARTLY KEITH’S JUST A NICE GUY, BUT…

Principles that applied to the kids applied to the adults, too, though, and we all experienced and shared more patience and understanding.


The more I got to know Marty, the more ways I saw him like Keith, and because I was sympathetic to those traits in Marty which had bothered me in Keith, I became more sympathetic and understanding of Keith.
That was cool.

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I didn’t expect unschooling to make the grocery store so fun.


Holly and I went early to the store that just opened VERY near us. I didn't know there would be a ribbon-cutting, or we'd've gone a little bit earlier, but we did see the giant scissors and the leftover ribbon, and the podium where the speech was made. 

There was live music (classical guitar, doing some local stuff and some jazz and pop too). There was "congratulations" cake. There were flowers being handed out. The store was PERFECT. Everything was amazingly arranged, and when I told the manager how beautiful the produce was and that I thought nobody would buy any today because nobody would want to mess it up, he laughed and admitted it was pretty wonderful. Said it took eight guys, and the green beans were laid in individually. I was talking about the peppers, which were clearly laid in like people do mortarless stonework.

Everyone was being REALLY nice to everyone else even though it was crowded and the carts were nearly all being used. The kids we saw besides Holly were very young and babies, and strangers were cooing over babies, and oohing over the beauty of the inner remodelling done on that building. Stone this'n'that, Mexican tile. It was as exciting a trip to a grocery store as I will ever hope for.

And Holly went hungry, and of all the foods in the world she could bring back for breakfast she wanted microwaveable pizza. So we got Tombstone deepdish, and I though I tried to talk her into orange sweetrolls or donuts or something, she said (in front of two older women), "No, I don't want anything sweet. I just want the pizza."
 

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I didn’t expect to see school so differently.

“School is what you make of it” they used to say.  I can see some possibilities in that, but school is only so soft, and only so safe.  

What I made of it, when I was a kid, was a contest.  

Keith – SCA tournaments – 2nd place!   “I lost.”

Me, school, seven league boots.   
FLICK!
I usually won easily.

I didn’t expect my ongoing review of school to make me wish I had not walked through those races.  I wish other kids had won more.

Part of that, though, is freefloating guilt and shame.

I didn’t expect unschooling to create a shameless life, 
but one day I said to Holly, joking, “Aren’t you ashamed?”

She didn’t know what “ashamed” meant.  She was twelve; maybe thirteen already.

People used to say “you should be ashamed” lots, to and around me.  And I was, I just hadn’t found the reason for it yet.  Shame’s like an indwelling virus that surfaces when we’re weak, in those who caught it.  

I didn’t know people could grow up without having a wad of shame inside them, waiting to surface.


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I didn’t expect this to improve my relationships with pets.


I noticed one morning I was really patient with my irritating cat.    That was cool, and announced to one of the discussion lists that I was going to work it into my talk about things that surprised me.  We've long been sweeter with our current dog  than we ever were with a dog before, and somewhat the cats too, but usually I  hiss at the cat to get away from me when he gets in my face early in the morning  and this morning I told myself that the cat can't open a can, and he's excited  that I'm awake, and the dog probably ate their canned food, so I just very  calmly followed him in there and fed him and he was very happy.   I doubt it's my last frontier, it's just my current frontier. 

We leave food down for our dog.  Sometimes the neighbor dog comes in and eats it.  We have a friend, who’s housesitting for us, and she was surprised that our dog and cats didn’t mind her dog eating from their dishes.  Her dog is fed separately, and finishes it all.  Ours know there will be some more later if that gets eaten, so they only eat when they’re hungry.



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I didn’t know how much people could learn without reading.

As their reading ability unfolded and grew, I learned things I never knew as a teacher, and that I wouldn't have learned as an unschooling mom had they happened to have read “early.”  Reading isn't a prerequisite for learning.  Maps can be read without knowing many words.  Movies, music, museums and TV can fill a person with visions, knowledge, experiences and connections regardless of whether the person reads.  Animals respond to people the same way whether the person can read or not.  People can draw and paint whether they can read or not.  Non-readers can recite poetry, act in plays, learn lyrics, rhyme, play with words, and talk about any topic in the world at length.


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I didn’t know I would come to feel like an expert.

I started learning about ballads when I was fifteen, and read and listened to all I could find, read research and theory, studied it some in college, read people’s “published papers” (barely published).   Within ten years I could tell bad scholarship when I saw it, and flimsy premise, and bad methodology.  I had thought that might be my life’s work, but I dropped out of grad school twice and then got pregnant and did other things.

Still, without a special piece of paper, I could tell good research from bad.  I knew when a writer had missed reading another prominent folklorist’s ideas.

I haven’t kept up with that field.  That period of intensity passed by, and I was involved with children instead.

Now when I read articles on education, or research, or the best ideas teachers have had, I see flaw and lack in a way I couldn’t have if I hadn’t unschooled, and if I hadn’t spent so much time sharing back and forth with people about the meaning of respect for children, and how to put these things into everyday practice.

Principles and practicalities are different without school.  
Sometimes learning seems calmer and slower 
but then it can flame up quickly without notice, 
regardless of time of day or night, 
without permission from the office, and 
without a bell ringing to say “no more.”


I was a little surprised to find out how much of unschooling is DOING, rather than just not doing.  
We are not sitting in the back corner of the homeschooling world doing nothing.  
We’re doing something profound and direct.


When Paths of Learning ceased publication, subscribers were sent “Encounter:  Education for Meaning and Social Justice.”

	Show the cover and read the excerpts.

Bliss, like love, I think, is a biochemical reality and it can pass, it can fade.  Bliss can be extinguished.

On the bliss-following point, remind them of Certificates of Empowerment.



Unschoolers have experiences other homeschoolers don’t have.

Unschoolers know things that teachers can’t learn in or around school.

Unschoolers who start early enough can have relationships with their children for which there are hardly any words.  

I hope you saw and felt some of that here over the past few days.

Thank you for coming and being part of this incomparable experience.

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