Pam Laricchia's Blog, page 49

“I’m so proud of you!”

Or do you really mean, “I’m so happy for you!”

Is there a difference?

To feel proud, pleased, or satisfied with something you’ve accomplished is a wonderful, intrinsic reward for your effort. But to take pride in the result of someone else’s actions or accomplishments seems to send a different message.

Over the years, I’ve had people say to me, “Oh, you must be so proud of him/her!” referring to whichever of my child’s accomplishments they happen to be noticing in the moment. And each time it catches me off-guard—it’s not my accomplishment. To give me any credit seems to downplay the often intense effort they have put into the deed at hand. I usually reply along the lines of, “Yes, I’m so happy for them!” Maybe I add, “They’ve worked so hard.”

And I am very excited! For them. I am happy that they are doing what they love to do and that their effort is paying off along the way. To my child I might say, “That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!” or “Way to go!” I celebrate their accomplishment with them—it’s not about me.

Unschooling parents are more likely to see the situation from the child’s perspective, instead of thinking about how their child’s actions make them feel. Instead of thinking “I’m proud”, they think “my child must be thrilled!” It’s the same when things go awry, like we were talking about earlier this month (When You Want To Fix Things For Your Child). We commiserate with their disappointment, but we don’t wear it personally. If as parents we get so invested in our children’s lives that we take on their actions as our own, we can set up a codependency of sorts. Where our own joys and sorrows are dependent on our child’s joys and sorrows—and vice versa. Where neither of us are our own, independent selves. That’s not our goal as parents.

But “I’m so proud of you” seems so harmless! Maybe.

Yet parents can end up exerting control over their child’s actions through their use of the phrase. How? By praising only the efforts that the parents approve of, the ones they are personally proud of, rather than celebrating the accomplishments the child is proud of. Through the, maybe overt, maybe inadvertent, pattern of expressing their pride in their child, they can manipulate their actions. The child can feel the weight of their parents’ expectations, “Make us proud!” Moving forward, if a child wants to feel valued by their parents, their choices may become rooted in pleasing their parents, not in their own interests and passions. They are less likely to discover who they are; more likely to suppress their inclinations in favour of trying to be who their parents wish them to be. That way be the dragons of eventual discord and rebellion.

Let’s play with another example: “It was a proud day for him when his son entered college.” (dictionary.reference.com)

Again, it’s a pretty common statement, yes? The first time I read it my brain basically skipped the “for him” phrase, and I thought yes, entering college could well be a proud day, the son likely did some hard work to get there and it felt like a solid accomplishment. (Let’s disregard the question of why he’s there for now, yes?) But then I noticed the “for him”. Dad is proud, meaning he feels a sense of accomplishment in his son starting college. He is taking the credit he feels is his due for his son entering college. Maybe he feels like those years of effort to guide his child along the path to college (studying, grades, extra-curricular activities to round out his college application etc.) have paid off.

Or, instead, is he really happy for his son? Is he excited for him to start this new phase of his life, this new adventure?

I think sometimes we confuse the feelings of pride and joy. Ha! That reminds me of the phrase “pride and joy”. Maybe they got tagged together precisely because it can be challenging to separate those feelings? Like “Her garden is her pride and joy.” (idioms.thefreedictionary.com) Or “My child is my pride and joy.” Do you take the same personal satisfaction in the spoils of your garden (delicious veggies or beautiful flowers), the results of your direct gardening actions, as you do in the actions of your child? That’s a great question to ask ourselves.

I think it’s worth taking a moment to ask ourselves if we’re feeling pride or joy. It helps us to check our perspective, to put it where the action is, so to speak. Maybe start with the question, “Whose actions were directly responsible for the accomplishment?” If we’re feeling pride in the results of someone else’s action, that may be a clue we’re uncomfortably invested. If what we’re really feeling is great joy for them in their accomplishment, it’s probably better to express that directly. Maybe our behind-the-scenes actions were involved enough that we do feel a sense of accomplishment and pride ourselves—that it feels like something we’ve accomplished together. That’s understandable too!

There’s no definitive right or wrong—there’s understanding. And from there we can move forward more clearly. Unschooling parents find understanding ourselves—our thoughts, feelings, perspectives, and motivations—helps us better support our children as they too explore and discover their own thoughts, feelings, perspectives, and motivations. And it’s not a one-time thing for any of us—we all grow and change with experience.

Again, unschooling is life.

 

When You and Your Child See Things Differently

Let’s talk about some things parents can do when they see situations differently than their children. Maybe your child wants to go to a movie unsupervised for the first time and you’re uncomfortable, while they’re insistent. Maybe at your child’s weekly activity you have concerns about the behaviour of another child or parent, yet your child is unconcerned—they just don’t see it the way you do. Where do you go from there?

In my experience, when there seems to be a stalemate of sorts, what’s often missing is the parent’s genuine understanding of the situation from their child’s point-of-view. Sometimes as parents we forget that what we are sharing is our perspective, our interpretation of the situation, not cold, hard facts. And as different people, it’s unreasonable to expect that they will always see things exactly the same way we do. What your child is telling you is their reality. The challenge is that if we are insistent, if we try to push our reality to replace theirs, we can also be pushing away the chance for a deeper understanding of and connection with them. We risk damaging the trust in our relationship.

When I find myself in this predicament, I try to step back and do the work to understand my child’s point-of-view. It helps me see them more deeply, beyond “they just don’t understand.” If I assume they just don’t understand, my path forward is likely to just keep explaining my point-of-view over and over. They’ll get it eventually, right? If you find yourself repeating the same explanations, trying to convince them, that’s a big clue that whatever you’re saying isn’t making sense, it’s not connecting to how they see things. It’s time to change things up.

How? For me, instead of continuing to explain my reality, I try to live their reality for a while. And I explore my discomfort with the situation: I ask myself questions, like “what is it that’s making me feel uncomfortable?” and “why is that?”, following up each answer with more questions as I dig deeper, doing the work to understand my reactions and move past my defensiveness and filters. This helps me to more clearly see my child’s world through their eyes. If they aren’t bothered by things, I try on what it feels like to not be bothered. And vice versa. I’m a detailed yet detached observer for now. What is it that my child anticipates or sees in the goings-on? How are they reacting, or not reacting? Why? Why not? Where does that lead them?

As you continue to observe, keep the communication between you both open and safe. You have made your concerns known—after all, that’s when you realized your differing viewpoints—so your child is aware of them. If a parent makes too big a deal about something (too big as judged by the child), there’s a good chance that if a challenge does arise, the child might choose not to talk to the parent about it because the “I told you so”, whether or not literally spoken out loud, would be too heavy in the air.

Understanding your child’s world more deeply can help you develop trust in them and their actions. And from there you are in a more knowledgeable place from which to help them process and move through what they see. If it’s not something in their world, and when you point it out they see no big need to incorporate your feedback into their day-to-day actions, then maybe they really don’t yet need to react to it. If they can’t see it yet, it’s because it’s not on their radar. You can help them understand their world more deeply by seeing what they see and being open and available when they notice new things and begin to incorporate them into their expanding worldview. Just because they don’t see something now, doesn’t mean they never will.

I wanted to approach the issues of the last post and this one separately because they seem like very different situations: one when your child is sad or upset and you want to help them feel better; and the other when you and your child don’t see eye-to-eye about something. But what I’ve found over the years is that the most supportive way through those situations is the same: work through my fears and filters so I can clearly see the situation from my child’s perspective. So often that’s where real understanding lies.

In fact, any time there is a disconnect between my child and myself, it’s a clue for me to do some work. To learn some more, to think some more; ask myself questions, get to the root of my unease. The disconnect means either I’m missing something—I haven’t yet managed to ask the right questions—or I haven’t been able to explain myself clearly. To be clear, my work isn’t to beat back my fears so I can get to a place of acceptance and blindly follow their choices. It’s to understand my child’s perspective so that I can be there with them, seeing and validating what they see, and from that deeper understanding, bring more useful information to our discussions.

In doing that work, maybe I discover that, though their choices wouldn’t be my path, I understand why it’s their path. I can now see how they got there. That understanding means that I can now be fully supportive, whether that’s moving forward at their pace, or with their activity of choice on their terms.

Maybe I discover the root of what is bothering me and I can now articulate it, meaning I can now ask them the question that will afford me the answer that puts my mind at ease. Or share the insight that connects with my child where they are, helping them better understand my discomfort, and we find a path forward that incorporates my concerns.

Sometimes in the end I discover that it’s “just” about stretching my boundaries, like my child’s first overnight visit, or their first mosh pit, or their first extended trip.

As parents, we can choose to “put our foot down” and expect our children to do what we think is best. As unschooling parents, we can choose to do the work to understand our children’s perspective, their emotions, and their choices. And to understand our own experiences deeply enough that we can share them in a way that is helpful for our children—in a way that makes connections for them and broadens their understanding of themselves and the world.

We can choose to walk with them through their days.

 

When You Want to Fix Things For Your Child

When our children are upset about something we want to fix it for them, to help them feel better. And as unschooling parents, we certainly do whatever we can—both with conversation to process things and with any actions we can think to take or offer. We don’t leave them to figure things out on their own.

But not everything is under our, or their, control. Sometimes we can’t find a satisfying resolution right away, if ever. What happens then? What if our children aren’t responding to our efforts to help them as we hope? What if they discard our suggestions? What if they stay upset or sad or angry longer than we’re comfortable with?

At that point we can be tempted to say things like “I want to make you feel better” and “we have to figure out a way for you to get past this.” We feel we are coming from a place of love—we want our child to be happy! But look at our language. It’s getting stronger, more controlling. Why is that? If we dig deeper, in my experience, we’re often coming from a place of fear. Now we’re uncomfortable. We want to solve the issue already and get back to “normal”.

Have you found yourself in this position? Fear begins to scratch at your mind more and more persistently. “Why is he still upset about that?” “Will her sadness last forever?” “Why is he behaving so unreasonably?” These questions begin to loom larger and larger in your mind. There’s a good chance your fear may soon begin to spill out, almost unconsciously. Maybe through your tone, your actions, your body language, or sprinkled into your speech, you subtly communicate to your child that you are not okay with where they are right now. It becomes important to somehow take more control of the situation, to get them to move through their process at your pace. Theirs is too slow.

If you get to that place where it’s apparent that you need them “get over it”, things can start to feel like a bit of a power struggle—to both of you. That adds another layer of complexity to the situation. Your child may begin to feel even worse, knowing that you are worried or frustrated. And now, alongside working through their feelings for their own understanding and comfort, they have the added pressure of doing it to meet your need. They may start to avoid speaking with you about it, knowing that bringing it up will upset or worry you further. Now their processing is being done on their own, without your input and caring, making it more challenging. And it puts some distance between you and your child, weakening your relationship.

Instead, try to move through your fear. Remember, what you do have control over is you. Ask yourself why why you’re feeling so much pressure to solve this asap. Has this been a similar issue for you in the past? Might that be ramping up the pressure and worry you’re feeling? What is it that you are worried might actually happen? What’s the worst that could happen? What would you do then? Asking myself these questions and honestly evaluating the answers often helped me realize that whatever the situation, it wasn’t the end of the world. The nebulous fears that were rolling around in my head, picking up new ones like a katamari until they began to drown out most other thoughts, started to recede once I had some solid ground to cling to, some picture of what I’d be able to do “even if” we stayed in this place forever. They lost their paralyzing hold on me.

Along with that work, try not to take on their emotions personally—you can understand their distress with taking it on as your own. Not only will you be able to think more clearly without the rush of their upset and your fear, you’ll be more able to absorb their upset and radiate calm back to them. To be their rock in the storm.

So with that more solid footing, now try to see the situation through their eyes—from their perspective, not yours. Meet them with their sadness, with their overwhelm and their stuckness. Just be with them. Listen to them without judgment. Make these moments about their observations and feelings and validating those. Understand them deeply. Offer up lots of comforting things. Be there with them so they know deep inside that they are not alone. You are helping them explore and process challenging stuff—intimate and personal learning that helps build a strong foundation. I know it’s hard! You feel like you’re in a vortex and if you don’t try to pull them through they will be stuck there forever.

But they won’t. Once they feel deeply understood where they are, they will eventually want to move forward—it’s not fun to feel upset and powerless and stuck! And that is when you can begin to explore with them what the path forward might look like. Now they are open to hearing your thoughts and ideas.

No matter how much we wish we could whisk away our children’s disappointment and sadness and frustration, we can’t make them move any faster. Their living and learning happens at their pace. If we try to speed them up, we risk being shut out. The fastest way through is to be with them as they do their work: understanding, supportive, and available. The way you’d like to be treated when things go awry.

We are all people and sometimes this is how life goes.

And I’ve discovered with my children that, after moving through these kinds of situations with each of them a few times over the years, they now know, even deep in their disappointment, that they can move through it. Even if they don’t know what things might look like in the end, they understand that it’s a process and they give themselves the time and compassion to work through it. It’s not easy, but it’s life.

 

Online Connections: Do They Count?

Last week we talked about things you might do to support your children if they’re wanting to find more friends. I also mentioned that if your child is happy with their level of social interactions, yet you’re feeling uncomfortable, that’s a different conversation. So let’s look at one of those possible scenarios. What if the majority of your child’s social interactions are online? Our children are growing up with online technology, it’s more intuitive for them, so it can often be us parents who are concerned, while they are happily chatting with other kids in different time zones. Do they really count?

Whenever I find myself uncomfortable with something in our unschooling lives, “why?” is my favourite question. I keep asking it until I manage unearth the root of the issue for me. Once I’m there, I can begin to make useful observations.

With our world becoming more and more connected through technology, online connections are becoming more commonplace, and more meaningful. Yet they are still often considered “less than”. We tag our in person encounters as IRL, “in real life,” as if our online connections aren’t real. Why? In my experience, I often feel more connected to my online friends because we communicate more—both more often and in more depth. Why? Especially when my children were younger, I could fit online conversations into my personal schedule, like writing email replies after they fell asleep. And for me, written conversations added a level of thoughtfulness, as I’d re-read and edit what I was writing for clarity before hitting send.

Back in 2002 when we discovered and chose to begin unschooling, I didn’t have any family or friends who had even heard of homeschooling. It was online where I discovered homeschooling, where I found a forum with participants from my province, where I confirmed the legality of keeping my children home instead of sending them to school. Online is where I discovered unschooling, and found a forum where thoughtful and caring parents were discussing the ideas behind it and sharing what it looked like in their family. Unschooling communities are often very small locally, yet rich online where the pool is worldwide. These online connections have made a world of difference for my family.

And over the years I’ve made many wonderful acquaintances and found my closest friends. Yet I only see them in person once or twice a year—and that’s mostly now that my children are older. Are they “real” friends? Definitely. Valuable relationships? Absolutely! What’s so fun to observe is that the odd times we do meet face-to-face, our friendship flows. Conversations pick up from where they left off online, they twist and turn, and after we part ways, they pick up online from that new place. With technological advances, online communication has progressed past written missives to speech and even video with tools like Skype and Google Hangouts. Our online communication styles and tools are continually changing, making virtual connections richer.

It’s not about valuing one style of communication over another—it’s about exploring the styles that work for the communities you and your family find you’d like to be part of. My daughter Lissy first found a community of passionate photographers online, and now, a few years later, she has met quite a few of them in person during her travels, alongside staying in touch with them online. Most of my son Joseph’s connections are online, yet he’s still learned a lot about developing, managing, and nurturing friendships.

In fact, the conversations I have with each of them surrounding relationships are eerily similar, given that their favoured modes of communication are vastly different. Our conversations flow through the same topics, the same kinds of questions. That shows me that social interactions online are not by definition less valuable. I think they range in value just as in person interactions do. Again, the key is to look to your children—support them as they explore the world. Spend as much time helping them navigate online relationships as you would if the other child was visiting in your home.

There are skills that are about being human in our world, like communication and relationship skills, which are sought out and experienced through whatever paths we choose. No matter the window to the world your child chooses, it’s the world they can potentially see. Help them explore it, rather than spending your time trying to pull them to your window. Their view may be uncomfortable for a while, but that’s our learning.

 

Finding Friends

When we get past the first impressions of unschooling as “crazy,”often the next stage is seeing it as almost utopian. What a wonderful way of life for our children: diving into what interests them; enthusiastic yeses to their requests as often as feasible; strong and connected family relationships where their voice is heard and fully considered etc.

And it is wonderful! But does it mean their life is perfect? Not by any stretch of the imagination.

As we spend more and more time with unschooling we begin to see it more clearly for what it is: life. Real life, with all its twists and turns and ups and downs. As unschooling parents we do our best to help our children’s lives align as closely as possible to their goals and aspirations, but as they get older it inevitably dawns on us that things aren’t always within our control.

Let’s explore one such question I’ve seen come up pretty regularly in the lives of unschooling kids over the years: finding friends.

It can be challenging to support our children as they explore ways to work through these realities. We don’t like to see our children sad or upset. We wish we could fix it for them, or somehow convince them not to be sad about it, but reality has its own timetable. And looking back, we come to realize that the skills our children learn as we help them explore ways to approach these kinds of situations help them better weather the storm the next time it happens, and the next.

On the topic of finding friends, there are three things I’d encourage you to consider before you dive into conversations with your children.

First, if you find yourself ruminating about your children and the quantity/quality of their friendships, first check that it’s a concern of theirs, not just of yours. Sometimes unschooling kids are happily immersed in their world, maybe with a couple of siblings, maybe with a friend they see irregularly. If the concern is specifically yours, that’s a whole different conversation. For our purposes here, let’s assume it’s the child who is wishing to find more friends.

Next, let’s take a moment to note that this question is unrelated to conventional society’s ongoing concern with socialization and home/unschooling. There’s a big difference between socialization and being social; between “acquiring the social skills appropriate to their social position” (dictionary.com) and hanging out with friends. Unschooling parents are pretty quickly comfortable with the idea that school is not a great place to learn social skills. But might it be a good place to find friends? Maybe.

Yet one thing’s pretty certain: if you mention to a more conventional friend or family member that your child has been wanting to find more friends, in my experience, the most likely suggestion you’re going to get is to send them to school—along with a helping of guilt that you’ve been depriving them of friends up to this point by keeping them home. Heck, that may be where your mind goes first too! And that’s not very surprising—we’ve been well-trained. (This is as good a time as any to remind you that even if you think you “finished” deschooling long ago, I can almost guarantee that as new situations arise over the years you will excavate more pockets of conventional thinking to be examined. Or maybe I’m the only one?)

And that brings us to the third thing to contemplate: Is this really an unschooling question? Or is it a human question?

Think back to your days in school. Did you have a lot of friends? How many close friendships? Did you feel connected to the kids around you? Did you have much time to be social during school hours?

In reality, many school kids are lonely too. If school is “the answer” to the question of finding friends, how can that be? It doesn’t make sense. Our experience—and even the conventional stories told through books and TV shows and movies—tell us that having lots of kids around in no way guarantees solid friendships will develop.

Friendships are about connections, about finding common ground. At school, kids are gathered through shared geography and lumped together in classrooms by age. There’s definitely a concentration of kids! Yet living in the same neighbourhood is a pretty weak connection upon which to build a friendship. Shared interests can definitely be a stronger starting point, yet still maybe a deeper friendship develops, maybe not.

When our children express a wish to find friends we can do our best to help them pursue their desire for more connections. We can brainstorm ideas for finding and making connections (what group activities relate to their interests?). We can support them emotionally by commiserating with them about the mismatch between their reality and their vision surrounding friends. We can support them physically by inviting people into our homes (host a gaming day, a lego party etc) and driving our children places (is it really “too far”?). We can do our best to create an abundance of possibilities, but we can’t control the outcomes.

We can encourage them to be open to other ways connect with people, ways that may not be their first choice, but that may surprise them if they give them a shot, like online communities or conventions. We really can’t predict where or when a connection might spark. We can validate, and yet accept, their disappointment. If we react too deeply, if we take on their sadness as our own, we risk sending the message this disappointment is a bad thing, a failure. No. Life is disappointing sometimes. Shit happens. We can keep going.

We can share our stories. I have a few close friends that I initially connected with through unschooling, while others remain lovely acquaintances. In contrast, the friends I had in school dropped away quickly once we left school: we didn’t have enough connections outside of school to sustain the relationships. That’s all okay—that’s life. My daughter has made friends through girl guides, through volunteering, and through her interest in photography. Some have faded, others have blossomed. My son has a great group of friends right now at his dojo. But over the years one thing we’ve discovered is that the friendships we make aren’t always in sync with our desire for friendship.

Seeing that bigger picture, that ebb and flow over the years, helps us and our children be more patient with, and open to, the complexities of life. Through it all we support our children as they explore the ways in which they enjoy connecting with people, as they play with how much time they want to spend cultivating relationships, both how many relationships they want to nurture and how deeply. It’s an ongoing conversation. It’s living. It’s unschooling.

 

Exploring Outside Activities

It’s one thing to get comfortable with unschooling in your own home, but it can be a whole ’nother kettle of fish to bring that learning mindset with you out into the world.

For example, is your child interested in taking a class or joining an organized activity? Swimming lessons? Ballet? Hockey? If you’re newer to unschooling, you may want to consider avoiding structured activities for now, as they can interfere with your deschooling (you can read more about that here: Do classes hinder deschooling?), but if your child is interested, let’s talk about some of the ways you can support their learning and enjoyment.

The first question is, is your child interested in pursuing their interest through an organized activity? For example, there’s a difference between being interested in hockey and wanting to play hockey. As a child I enjoyed watching hockey (live and on TV), I enjoyed playing street hockey, and one season I enjoyed keeping my own stats for my favourite NHL team—but I was never interested in playing organized hockey (and my dad coached a girl’s hockey team for a few years so it was definitely on my radar). Just because your child expresses an interest in something, that doesn’t necessarily mean they want to formally participate in it, so it can help to take a moment to consider the many possible ways to pursue an interest in something.

Finding a good match …

The typical response when a child asks to join an activity, assuming the parents agree, is for a parent to find the closest location and sign them up. End of story. From there, the child is expected to do the work to fit into the environment so they can participate/learn.

For unschooling parents, our foremost focus is on supporting our children’s learning so, instead of expecting our children to adapt, we are willing to do the work to search out an environment that meshes well with how our children like to learn. Understanding that the atmosphere surrounding many activities is dictated by the individual adults who run them, we look for a good fit between the group’s atmosphere and the child’s personality and goals.

Let’s take ballet as an example: some schools are focused on their students participating in dance competitions; some on putting together a big year-end recital; some on progressing students through formal dance examinations; some on the recreational enjoyment of dance etc. Or how about karate: some dojos focus on attendance and progress their students through the belts based time invested; some focus on skill development and progress their students based on proficiency displayed; some dojos insist their students compete in certain tournaments; some avoid them altogether etc. What are your child’s goals?

And on top of the approach to the activity itself, there’s also the teaching methods and personalities of the teachers/coaches. Do they demand obedience and cultivate a strict, hierarchical environment? Do they encourage questions and cultivate a supportive atmosphere? Are they somewhere in between? The knowledge and skills of the instructors being relatively equal, there is still a wide range of possible learning environments—some your child may fit into like a glove while others may turn them off the activity for years to come. If your goal is to help them explore their interest, your best bet is to help them find the studio/dojo/group/league that is a good match for their personality.

What has that looked like over the years for us? With my daughter, when we moved, I continued to drive her to her girl guide group meetings in our old community because she had a great connection with the leader (an hour each way). The next year the leader changed and she tried out meetings with a couple groups in our new community before finding one that suited her. When my youngest wanted to try karate, I called some of the different dojos around that we could try. And I talked about it with him in those terms: this dojo seems like a good fit so let’s try it out, see if you like it, and if you don’t there are others you can check out.

Instead of choosing a location by geography and expecting your child to conform, take the time to explore the options and try to find one that is a great fit for your child.

Getting ready to go …

Participating in an activity likely means a fixed time for lessons or practice or games. This can be challenging, especially for younger children who may have a harder time transitioning to leave if they get caught up in something at home. On top of that, it can also be challenging for newer unschooling parents because they may feel like they are coercing their child to leave. What do they do if their child says they don’t want to go this week?

If going to an activity is becoming a struggle, take a moment to look at how you’re setting it up. If you find yourself saying something like “It’s Wednesday, your karate class is today, are you going to go this week?” take a moment to rethink that. By asking your child each week whether they want to go to class, you’re basically asking them to revisit their decision each time. That’s a lot of work, especially for younger children.

In my experience, it’s easier to assume your child wants to go (they wanted to sign up in the first place) and do your best to help them get there: make it as painless as possible for them. “Your karate class is today! I have your gi clean and I put your bo by the front door. We’ll get changed and leave right after dinner.” By bringing it up during the day you have time for conversations without the added pressure of trying to get out the door. And by making sure all the supporting things are in place so that your child can just go to the activity (clean outfits/uniforms, working and available equipment, transportation and timing etc), then they can focus on the activity itself. Are they enjoying it? That is the real question.

Choosing to quit …

When our children express an interest in an activity it can be easy for us parents to get caught up in the idea that “maybe they’ll grow up to do this for a living!” We want to encourage them to continue. We’re afraid that if they quit they’ll “get behind” and the opportunity to develop their interest into a career will be lost. At age eight.

There are a couple of things to consider here. First, if it’s not catching their interest so much that they are excitedly dedicating many hours to it on their own, then the chances of a professional career are slim. Certainly the chances of enjoying a professional career are slim. Second, quitting is not a forever decision. My daughter took a couple years of dance lessons when she was young, quit, and went back for a year when she was sixteen. She really enjoyed it! When you’re doing things for enjoyment, there is no “behind”, there is just where you are. At the dojo there are white belts of all ages. There are adult beginner ballet classes, there are adult recreational hockey leagues, and there are public swimming times where people of all ages and abilities can enjoy the water.

Or maybe we’re worried that our children wanting to quit means they will always give up when things get challenging. First off, challenges that aren’t motivating and inspiring for your child are probably not the right kinds of challenges. Great to know! But also, the choices they make today don’t define all the choices they will make in the future. The choices they make today are helping them gain experience with making choices.

Over the years they will gain lots of experience with wanting to try something, with choosing ways to try it out, and with seeing how well those paths met their goals. They will discover things they enjoy and things they don’t, and get a better feel for the clues that help them decide when to step up their game and when to quit something.

And even after they choose to quit something (for now, at least) they’re still learning. How does that choice feel? Do they miss the activity? How much? What do they miss about it? What are they doing with the time that quitting freed up? Are they enjoying that more than the activity? Less? So much learning!

Or maybe we’re upset about the money we invested in the lessons that we may not be able to get back. Think about it this way: the more you insist your child continue in the activity after they’ve decided they don’t like it, the stronger their resistance to the activity will likely grow.

If you’ve paid $100 for a series of rec ballet lessons and they’re only half finished, might you consider that last $50 as an investment in preserving their enjoyment of dance? If they don’t enjoy the lesson environment, try the myriad other ways there are to enjoy and explore dance: put on some classical music and dance around the room; try a different style of music and see what happens; borrow ballet books and DVDs of dance performances from the library; help them try out what they see; buy some costumes or a tutu so they can dress up; record their performances at home so they can see themselves; go see a ballet in a fancy theatre (The Nutcracker is beautiful and fun for kids, and often performed around Christmas); in the spring, check your local dance schools for their student recitals (tickets are usually inexpensive). Remember, formal lessons aren’t the only way to enjoy many activities.

Supporting your children’s exploration of activities outside the home by doing your best to set them up for success goes a long way to helping them discover their unique interests and passions.

And that’s a great path to living joyfully.

 

A Lifetime of Living and Learning

Looking back over our years of unschooling, another big change I’ve seen is that my perspective as a parent has broadened beyond “childhood” to “life”. I no longer see childhood as focused on “learning everything you need to know to become an adult,” with my purpose being to “graduate” them into adulthood.

I think this shift started when I began pondering the purpose of curriculum, actually. From asking myself many questions about why children “should” learn certain things at certain ages. From thinking about the things I learned at school, the messages I was given about the things I was learning, and my own experience with what I have found truly useful as an adult.

Some of the thoughts that bubbled up along the way:

there isn’t a discrete set of knowledge and skills that everyone must have;
the discrete set of knowledge and skills that is helpful for people to interact comfortably with their own communities, varies by community (both cultural communities and those gathered around interests), and includes a subset of the typical school curriculum and much beyond it;
without the overlay of others’ expectations, children want to participate in the world around them as much as they are able, and the motivation to learn the knowledge and skills to do so grows organically alongside: to the level that they want to participate in the world around them, they want to do so successfully (as judged by themselves); which leads us to
 any piece of knowledge or skill worth having is worth learning when that value is discovered—and bonus, that knowledge or skill is better understood, and often more easily learned, at that time i.e. when the learner has discovered a need for it, when they have discovered a missing piece in their puzzle of the world, and they want to fill it (great internal motivation); and
giving everyone a generalized and basic picture of the world sounds good when looking from the 10k foot level at society in general, but it doesn’t translate well down to the individual—the individual has their own unique life to live and much of that general information may not be relevant or useful to them.

It’s so easy to tell ourselves that there’s no real harm in insisting a child learn something that’s not useful to them. It can’t hurt, right? Well first off, they’ll probably forget it soon after, so it’s not really learned. Not to mention that their time is wasted and could be put to better use learning things that interests them and are useful to them today. But what they pick up long-term through the endless repetition of “learn this, you’ll need to know it some day,” can be harmful: they learn to not trust themselves, to not trust their own judgment. They learn that others know better than they do what’s important for them. They learn to be followers; they feel safer looking for someone else to tell them what they “should” know, to tell them what the “right” thing to do is, rather than thinking for themselves.

That seems like quite a bit of harm being done in the name of “some day.” Why can’t they learn “it”, whatever it is, when “some day” actually comes? If it ever comes (and if it doesn’t, then they never did encounter a use for it). They can. If you don’t ingrain in them the idea that they need to learn “everything” in childhood in order to “graduate” into adulthood, they will be open to learning new things whenever the interest or need arises, whatever their age. Keeping my frame of reference for learning firmly focused on “lifetime” rather than “childhood” has helped my children develop an approach to learning that will be useful to them both today and throughout their lifetime.

Over the years this perspective has been so helpful, time and again. I see the learning my young adult children are continuing to do. I see the learning I am continuing to do. Our learning is better understood and remembered when we’re actively pursuing the information or skill: when we’re interested. And we have a lifetime to learn things.

Childhood is not preparation for life, it’s an integral part of it.

 

Treasure Creativity

Since we began unschooling, my appreciation for creativity has grown immeasurably. When we first started out, I thought creativity was great for artists, yet not particularly useful beyond that. But over the years I came to see how valuable it is to have a creative approach to life, and that unschooling is a wonderful way to help children retain their creativity. I think children are naturally creative, but that many of our conventional parenting and teaching practices discourage its use.

Let’s look at creativity from some different perspectives.

Creative Arts

We’ll start with the obvious visual and performance arts. With the conventional focus in childhood on right and wrong, and even more so in schools as teachers grade their work, judgment often funnels young artists into the “box”. The adult reactions to blue trees, dissonant chords, and new dance moves, often send young artists the message that their imagination should stay firmly within the bounds of reality and convention.

One of my daughter’s favourite quotes is from Walt Disney: “Every child is born blessed with a vivid imagination. But just as a muscle grows flabby with disuse, the bright imagination of a child pales in later years if he ceases to exercise it.”

With unschooling, a child is free, and even better, encouraged, to follow their own path of engagement with the creative arts. And that can be a very individual dance, especially if they are passionately drawn to an art form. At times they may be exploring the techniques, experiences, and ideas of other artists, both directly in their field of interest and beyond. And at other times they may be pulling inward, connecting those thoughts to their own understanding, letting their imagination percolate and play. Then cycling through some or all of those places again and again as their own experience grows. Unschooling parents are partners in this dance, sharing their thoughts and perspective, yet are careful not to fall into judgment and artificially restrict their child’s playground: their imagination.

Yet even if your child doesn’t venture into the creative arts as a career, supporting their experience in using their imagination, in thinking outside the box, is worth the time and effort.

Analyzing Situations and Creative Solutions

A yes/no answer, followed up with “because I said so,” is often the quickest way to move on in the moment, but there isn’t much learning or creative thinking happening there. One of the things that makes unschooling parenting more time-consuming is that rather than perpetuating the black and white distinction of right/wrong, we spend time looking at situations from various angles. In many everyday moments there are other possible paths to take beyond the “yes to one person, no the other” path. It’s possible that the needs of everyone involved can be accommodated—it just might take some creative thinking to figure out how.

Analyzing situations is about finding the real parameters and exploring the needs of the people involved. From there, our minds can dance through the possibilities. Paths don’t need to be as the crow flies—sometimes efficiency isn’t the most important goal. That’s where thinking outside the box shines!

Sometimes I’m a bit stunned by how little creativity many adults put into their thinking: when a question or issue arises, they think of the typical answer and stop there. Anything outside the conventional has too much risk associated with it—they have thoroughly learned to crave the comfort of the box. They can’t see the possibilities a bit further down the path, the opportunities that may grow out of an experience.

Imagine how useful these skills will be in adulthood! Being able to analyze situations and think creatively will help them in many ways, from discovering obscure yet rewarding paths to meet their own goals, to working with team members and finding unique ways to meet their company’s business goals, to exploring the possibilities of life with their own children. Are you finding your journey to unschooling is flexing your creative thinking muscles?

Creative Learning

I am still amazed at how rich and fulfilling learning is off the conventional path. When I started my unschooling journey, I was just beginning to glimpse the learning that can happen outside the school system. Over the years, that glimpse has blossomed into a rich and diverse landscape. Unschoolers explore the world through their interests and passions, reaching out and connecting and learning and growing. This real learning is understood and remembered, it’s appreciated and enjoyed, and most often it’s fun! And it’s all around us.

That doesn’t mean it’s “easy”. Life is full of challenges. Yet unschooling helps young people discover the things they are so interested in that setbacks, even though disappointing, aren’t major deterrents that knock them off their path. Instead, they are pieces of information that can be used to tweak their course. With unschoolers, their internal motivation is often a sight to behold.

Over the years I’ve seen unschoolers take so many different paths to learning things, to finding a place in the adult world. As unschooling teens dig into their interests and passions, they find communities and make connections, whether face-to-face or online. Even when they dip into more conventional learning tools, like college, they come at it from an entirely different perspective because they are there by choice. They want to learn, not just get a degree. Not only does their unique learning experiences and passion for their field come across in their resume, but in my experience, their excitement for their field of interest often means they are sought after by others as passionate as they are. Watching unschoolers move into the adult world is so interesting!

I have come to treasure the creativity that unschooling nurtures. Giving the priority, space, and time to cultivate the perspective of being open-minded and seeing possibilities, of thinking for themselves and seeing what happens, allows life to play out in marvelous ways time and again.

My Definition of Success

I write a lot about the benefits of unschooling that I’ve seen over the years for my children, so I thought it would be fun this month to switch it up and think about the benefits of unschooling for me. Parents definitely benefit as well!

We started unschooling in 2002, and looking back, one of the biggest changes in my worldview has been my definition of “success”. It’s so much bigger now. Moving to unschooling really challenged me to re-evaluate my life goals, both my personal ones and my parenting ones.

What makes a successful life?

Success is one of those words with layers (you choose, onion or parfait ). On the surface it’s about reaching our goals—certainly we’d all like to accomplish the things we set out to do. Yet underneath, it implies the attainment of wealth and social position. And deeper still, that the only goals worth actively pursuing are ones that result in one (or better, both) of those outcomes. When we buy into that perspective of success, it means that we quickly discard goals that don’t hold the promise of wealth at the end.

I grew up learning all the conventional, at least in North America, markers of success: a large home, fancy cars, name brand clothing, sunny vacations. And though it’s slowly changing, my experience is that this is still the dominant perspective. So for many, chasing success means choosing and accomplishing goals that result in the highest earnings attainable, which in turn allows them to purchase (sometimes through debt, against future anticipated earnings) those symbols of success. Certainly, some personal satisfaction is gained as those luxurious items meet, and often exceed, their needs, but I think there is also the satisfaction of showing others that they have “won”: competition is a significant part of the picture.

And school is all tied up in this conventional path to success: finding jobs with high earning potential typically means jobs that require additional schooling i.e. a college or university degree. And getting into college means a high school diploma, with higher and higher graduation marks needed as more students compete to get in. Of course, doing well in high school means spending grade school mastering the educational system i.e. getting good at taking tests. I bought that story. I lived that story.

But having children, and later considering unschooling, led me to question the repercussions of that path. I began to deeply wonder, does achieving conventional success lead to happiness? Because it didn’t take me long to realize that enjoying one’s time on this planet is definitely a worthwhile goal. That soon led me to distinguish between the fleeting happiness (distraction?) of being able to purchase new things and live very comfortably (is there meaning to life beyond being physically comfortable?) that would need to be continually fed (when is enough, enough?), and a more soulful contentment with one’s direction in life. A feeling of meaningful accomplishment, of having a positive impact on those around you. A sense of satisfaction that runs deeper than the ups and downs of day-to-day happenings.

Pondering that further, I came to see that rather than choosing goals specifically for their potential monetary success, it was more important that the goals a person is successfully accomplishing having meaning for them. And while the school path may more directly lead into pursuing conventional success, the unschooling path better encompasses the learning, both about themselves and the world, and encourages the mindset that leads to the pursuit of more personally fulfilling goals. How? With unschooling, the focus is on doing things that interest them, that bring them joy, on accomplishments that are much more likely to bring them personal satisfaction and a sense of meaningful achievement. Over and over.

Neither course precludes the other: I took the conventional path and here I am, living a decidedly unconventional life. And an unschooling childhood by no means prohibits one from achieving conventional-looking success (though it will most likely be done from a completely different perspective, simultaneously fulfilling their personal goals), no matter how often fear motivates strangers and relatives alike to proclaim that your unschooling children are doomed to work low-paying service jobs forever. And I had a hard time writing that because there’s nothing inherently wrong with choosing to work those jobs either, but I think you get my point.

For me, it’s come to be about personal choices. Maybe they are choosing a larger home because it gives the family room to spread out, space to pursue their projects, to find some needed privacy—those are all valuable, personal, meaningful reasons. Same with choosing a smaller home—it’s about the individuals involved. Same for fancy cars. Maybe it’s their passion, maybe they love restoration, maybe it’s about the high performance, maybe it’s about design. I’ve learned not to judge others’ choices just because they aren’t the same as mine. Because they aren’t mine. I’m not inside their heads, their thoughts and feelings and history, whatever brought them to this point in their lives.

The point is that, instead of placing societal expectations above their own desires, unschooled young adults are making choices—work, career, jobs, hobbies etc—based on their own interests and needs, which, through unschooling, they have gained lots of experience doing. Goals are an amalgamation of interests and dreams and personality and passions and circumstances. It’s about being successful at whatever they choose to pursue, rather than pursuing success in and of itself.

Pursuing success for its own sake is more often a hollow victory because it has no deeper meaning for the individual than the dollars, or the trophy. Satisfaction is short-lived and you’re back on the treadmill, needing another hit. It is the essence of external motivation, looking outside yourself for something to meet your need to feel successful. Whereas when you love what you’re doing, when you enjoy the work as well as the result, you discover a deep well of internal motivation. Deep and lasting satisfaction lives there. In that world, most days feel successful.

It’s so easy to dismiss the advice to find work that you truly enjoy, love even, as unrealistic. Most people don’t enjoy their job. Conventional school has trained most people to believe that work—and school is presented as work for children—is not fun. That’s what weekends are for. Even in the dictionary, work and fun are antonyms: opposites.

But with our unschooling experience, where we choose our activities and actively pursue things we enjoy, in other words, we regularly have fun—I’ve come to realize that not only do we learn better, we also perform better. Learning or doing, we find ourselves immersed “in the flow” of the activity more often.

I’ve come to see that when an opportunity presents itself, it really is okay, valuable even, to ask yourself if you think it will be fun to do. When it’s fun, you will enjoy it. You will, without feeling put upon or taken advantage of, put more effort into it. And when it feels like play, your mind will relax, open up, and slip into the flow, giving you more opportunity to make new and interesting connections: whether it’s a piece of art, a chunk of programming, or a business proposal. When it’s fun, there’s a better chance of spectacular results. Of success.

That’s my long-winded way of explaining how my definition of success grew beyond the conventional one, from a focus on attaining wealth and social position, to a focus on accomplishing whatever goals are meaningful to the individual. And it’s one of the most valuable insights I feel I have gained from moving to unschooling.

 

Exploring Relationships

Continuing with this month’s theme that unschooling encompasses the whole range of learning that goes into being a person, a human being, let’s look at relationships. Supporting our children as they learn about themselves and explore how they relate to others will help them immensely as they interact more and more with the world.

Note that gaining experience with relationships doesn’t necessarily mean interacting with lots of people. In fact, discovering how many people and relationships they are comfortable managing in their lives at any given time is an integral part of this process. There is no right or wrong answer—it’s part of their personality, their being. They may revel in their time alone, or in spending most of their time in the company of others. They probably have a preference for being home or going out and about on a regular basis. Sometimes they may be looking to expand their connections with others; other times they may be looking to cocoon, to be with their own thoughts. And there’s all points between. No matter, it’s fine. It’s great! Understanding and being comfortable with themselves is what’s important. The number of friends a person has is not a useful measure of a human being.

And not only is this place of comfort with ourselves a wonderful place to be, it’s also from this place that we feel most capable of stretching ourselves, of exploring our boundaries and discovering something new—learning. So, how can we support our children as they explore relationships?

Earlier this month I talked about being a responsive partner to your child in the learning dance of questions and conversations and silences as they piece together their unique picture of the world and how it works. Well, no surprise, we learn about relationships the same way! Help them explore and discover how they like to engage with the world around them.

For example, as you help them pursue their interests, explore different social environments with them: individual; family; small groups; large groups. Find appealing opportunities and offer them—people often gather around shared interests, from local clubs of a handful of people to large-scale conventions. If your child isn’t interested at the time, don’t worry, it’s enough for them to know that these these opportunities exist in the world. Expanding their world doesn’t necessarily mean they have to personally experience everything: pictures of the continent on the other side of the world, or of moon, broaden their understanding and knowledge; as does listening to recordings of bird sounds or ocean waves; as does knowing there are philharmonic orchestra performances and comic book conventions and karate dojos nearby, if and when they’re interested. And they have a lifetime to be interested.

Through this exploration, maybe they discover large groups overwhelm them. Or excite them. Maybe they find them tolerable when the reason for the gathering is near and dear to their heart. Explore one-on-one relationships. If they find another child they’d like to spend more time with, invite them over to visit regularly. Or be willing to take your child to visit them. Or meet them at other places, like a park or a museum, if that works out better.

All the while, conversations will come up. Emotional topics can be challenging, but don’t dodge them. Chat with your child about their relationships: their feelings when things go awry; reasons why their friend might be acting certain ways; how other households and families function. Even if your child strongly prefers the company of his family, opportunities will arise for these kinds of conversations, not only through your family interactions, but also through TV shows, and movies, and books, and online exchanges, and extended family gatherings.

Whatever your child’s preference for relationship connections, large numbers or small, it won’t likely change drastically as they get older, so it’s most useful to help them understand and be comfortable with themselves and gain experience engaging with the world from that perspective. That’s valuable learning. If ever you are feeling unsure, wondering about their social interactions, look to them: are they comfortable with the relationships in their lives? Sure, dig into your thoughts and understand why you are feeling uncomfortable—that’s your learning about yourself. But then shift and see the world through their eyes, and help them explore their thoughts and experiences. Support their learning.

Unschooling parents appreciate the value of supporting our children as they explore relationships. That learning is as valuable as any factual knowledge. Understanding themselves and how they relate with others is knowledge that will help them throughout their lifetime. They will be able to take it into consideration not only in their personal relationships, but in pursuing career and/or job opportunities as well, like choosing compatible work environments, and managing relationships with co-workers.

Relationships are a fundamental piece of the being human puzzle. Conventionally, parents have one way of relating to their friends and colleagues, and another way of relating to their children. The beauty of the relationships developed in unschooling families is that we don’t treat people differently based on their age, so what our children learn about relationships growing up will always be helpful. Certainly the topics we chat about, and the language we use, evolve as they get older, but how we relate to each other as people, honestly and respectfully, doesn’t change—from childhood, through the teenage years, to adulthood. The strong and trusting relationships I’ve developed with my children over the years are a wonderful foundation for their learning—and for our lives—together.