Unschooling

I have a complicated relationship with the concept of unschooling.

Ultimately, it’s not for me. Mostly, I can’t imagine that if I let my kids do whatever they want that they will choose to do the things that are difficult, and I think that part of my job is giving them the courage to try things that are difficult, and the skills to kick the butt of difficulty whenever possible.

So, when I was recently listening to an unschooling homeschooling parent rave about how her kids were thriving under her unschooling wing, I found myself cringing and squirming. She painted a rosy picture of how her children at first didn’t take to several things, but how if she just let them alone with it, they all came around and became brilliant at those things. She credited herself for staying out of the way and she credited all children with being so amazing that they just naturally develop brilliance given the space to do so.

Ugh. I find that these broad generalizations inspire my own feelings of guilt and frustration. Why is MY kid not naturally acquiring the skills and ethics that the other kids do? Why does my life not unfold so perfectly and conveniently? It leads to the ultimate question: What am I doing WRONG?

I have enough problems, enough reasons to blame myself, enough hyper-focus on my own inadequacies. I don’t need to emphasize more of my own failures. So, I find reasons to disagree with unschoolers. I say that guidance and structure are good for kids. I see my kids reacting positively to the boundaries and expectations I set that they would not otherwise set for themselves.

Of course, I agree with unschoolers that kids should have a lot of choice over the way in which they cover subjects and in many of the things they get to learn. I find myself nodding when unschoolers say that kids learn more and retain it better when they are learning about things that interest and inspire them. I concur that learning can happen in a multitude of ways and that those diverse ways should be honored.

Still, I have expectations around core subjects like reading, math, spelling, and writing. As a result, I routinely ruin perfectly good unschooling moments to foist lessons on my children. And for the most part, I am unapologetic about this. (Okay, I’ll admit that sometimes it would have been better had I stood back and let things unfold more organically, but I don’t always have that luxury. After all, there are three under 7 of them all with competing demands at any given moment.)

But the other day, I met a woman who has a kid in a very progressive, very gentle and nurturing elementary school. And she explained that she really wanted to homeschool, but she just couldn’t do it with this kid because she hates being the one to push him to do things. He doesn’t want to do things that he doesn’t feel interested in, and she likes that it’s his teachers and not her with the job of constantly requiring things of him that he doesn’t want to do. It’s enough how much we fight over his homework, she cringed. I would hate to fight all of the time with him. She also said that he gets overstimulated at school and has sensory integration issues, and being at school makes that difficult sometimes.

Much to my chagrin, I found myself thinking, “Oh, my. He needs a bit of unschooling.” If only this kid could follow his own passions and not be forced to do homework every day, he would probably enjoy learning a great deal more. If he didn’t feel like learning was about someone forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do all of the time, he might be a more passionate and joyful learner. If he could only get a break from the sensory overload he must feel every day and think without the clutter of sensory data beating him up, he would probably feel more open to learning. But I couldn’t find a way to say any of this without making this mother feel the way those stories about brilliant unschoolers make me feel. So, I cringed and squirmed instead.

I’m still not backing down on my regular lesson plans. But I’ll concede a point to unschooling.