No curriculum. No workbooks. No set time for instruction. Three statements and ideas that were fairly anxiety inducing a mere two years ago. Now? No curriculum. Workbooks left on a shelf with arts and crafts. Instruction all day everyday.
What changed? I followed my heart and stopped listening to my head (kind of...) When I first heard of unschooling (loosely defined as an informal way of learning/educating, which encourages learner-chosen activities as the main-and often only- way to learn), I scoffed and knew that would never be for us. Upon entry into our first full year of homeschooling, I purchased a few different curricula, transformed a room in our house into a classroom, complete with parts of speech posters, sight word cards and math equations splayed across the walls. An entire bookshelf was dedicated to schoolwork; workbooks, worksheets divided into color coded folders, a teacher planner, a kid-friendly calendar, highlighters, crayons, markers, pencils, erasers, glue, scissors, mini whiteboards and notebooks. One of my favorite parts of teaching, after all, was setting up the classroom and organizing all the things. I was ready.
Ready for what? To re create my public school classroom in my home. Ready to teach my first grader all the things I knew she needed to know by the end of first grade. Ready to meet all the standards set forth by the state for my then six year old. And ready to do it all in a timely manner, just as I had done in my classroom over the years.
But I wasn't teaching in a classroom and I wasn't teaching 20+ students. I had one individual who learns best in one way in some areas and best in another way in other areas. I got to know this individual. I watched her thrive, I watched her struggle, I watched her enjoy having mom as a teacher and hate having mom as a teacher. I don't know when it changed, it was gradual I guess. I began noticing the moments she loved having mom as a teacher were the natural moments we would learn together or I could share information with her without sitting her down and directly and purposefully teaching her a lesson.
We spent less and less time in the "classroom" and more and more time reading in front of the fire, googling newfound interests in the kitchen, poring over books at the library, observing a robin's nest from start of building to fledglings leaving the nest, taking our workbooks to park benches and beach picnic tables, spending more time at those places while leaving the workbooks in the car...then at home...then just about forgotten entirely.
The nagging voice in my head said, "she needs more instruction! She needs to know how to write multiple paragraph stories with correct spelling! She needs to learn mathematical operations and algebraic thinking!" The voice was loud. The voice was my upbringing in public education, my time teaching in public and private schools, it was my societal knowledge of what's expected, it was my Master's Degree in Elementary Education.
I acknowledged the voice for a while. I let it make me feel guilty every time we went for a hike, played at the beach or spent the morning painting instead of sitting down and doing lessons. But then I started leaning into her interests. In public school I would teach a unit to the class and at the end of the unit we were finished. Students who had more questions or a burning interest to delve further into a subject (i.e. the solar system, moon phases, non fiction books, fairy tales, poetry, etc.) were told they would have to do that on their own time. I wasn't afforded the time as an educator to do anything but move onto what was next on the list of standards we needed to complete in 180 days.
Now? Now I had a child interested in dog clicker training because a character in a book we read was helping her aunt train dogs. So we went to the library and checked out every book we could find about dog clicker training; the psychology behind it, how it works, what breeds it works best with, how and where to begin. We watched videos of professional dog trainers. And finally, we purchased a clicker and she began proudly and effectively clicker training our pup.
I found myself making more and more time and more and more space to follow these interests. She wanted to start a business, so she took what she learned in a Sunday school service project and began making dog toys. Then she added cat toys. Then she applied to be part of a children's entrepreneur fair. She prepped for weeks, learned about business models, advertising, start up costs and investors. Not to mention the time she spent actually making the products. Then, the day of the fair came, she greeted customers, did the math to add up their purchase totals, made change for them, wrapped up the product and handed it with a smile and "thank you!" She made some money, won an award, walked away with only a few pet toys left in her inventory and beaming with pride.
This is all real life experience. We were far from workbooks and curriculum, yet she was learning SO much. So after months of denying it myself, I finally admitted out loud that we are unschooling. All we do is informal, interest-led learning. The nagging voice is still there, (sometimes still making me wince when I say "we unschool") it yells things like "what about her spelling and handwriting? what about her math skills? have you given her a DRA lately?"
The less I pushed curriculum and standard based lessons, the more she did on her own. She came out of her room one day and excitedly told me she was on chapter 6 of a book a friend gave her. I said, "chapter 6 of what?" And lo and behold she was reading a full blown chapter book. No pictures, just text (the text she would tell me when sitting to read together was "too long, too many words, you read that part.") I asked her to tell me about it and she gave a full synopsis, with character names, setting and plot lines. Mom's mind blown. Another time? She pulled an old workbook off the shelf and asked me to make a point system for each page completed to earn enough points to get a new, highly coveted stuffed animal. She would wake up, go straight to the kitchen table and work independently for more than half an hour. She felt pride in her work, would ask for help as needed, and on she would go. She earned that stuffed animal in less than 48 hours.
Education is happening here. It may not (no...it definitely doesn't) follow the guidelines or the common core standards I was taught in grad school or during my time in the actual profession of teaching. But it's happening in an organic way that means something to her. And what does that mean? She loves to learn. She's learned how to learn. And she remembers everything because SHE chose to learn it.
Does this work for everyone? No. Heck, I was adamant it would never work for me, but here we are. If things change at some point, we'll change our method of homeschooling. Because the biggest lesson I've learned as a homeschool mom is that it is an everchanging and ever evolving way to educate and way to learn. And my biggest mantra as a parent has always been "do what works until it doesn't work anymore, then find something else that does."
And that nagging voice? It's definitely still there...not as loud, and I am able to quiet it by ensuring we do real world things that I know she will actually need to know. When she wants to write and can't spell something, she asks and I give a snippet of a phonics lesson while I cook dinner and she writes new song lyrics at the kitchen table. When we go to the grocery store we discuss estimation, rounding up and down, addition, multiplication and other need-to-know math concepts. While we also discuss life lessons, like how to pack a grocery bag with heavier things on the bottom and lighter things like bread on top so it doesn't get smushed.
And while I would like to say that I have come to admire and stand firm in our way of home educating solely from within myself, I admit one big reason I am able to quiet the nags is because I had another homeschool mom point something out to me. It was an ah-ha moment I didn't know I needed. Something I'm sure others who choose to unschool may not even need, but with all that's ingrained in me educationally, I did.
While telling a homeschooling mom friend of mine how I admire her structure around homeschool, her ability to sit her children down, teach them a lesson, have them produce meaningful work and complete assessments (all that was instilled in me as an educator,) she said something that will stick with me. She explained that because I have a background in education, I make every moment a teachable one. Everything we do all day long is an opportunity for me to teach and an opportunity for my kids to learn meaningful lessons. She said she has no background in education and simply doesn't have the skillset or trust in herself to do what I do. She said she needs the curriculum not just for her kids but for her; to show her as the teacher what to teach, when to teach it and how to teach it.
What works for one, might not work for others and that's okay; better than okay! It's what we need; different learners, different educators, different outcomes. So my inner formally educated voice took a deep sigh of relief, coming to the realization that all our kids are getting what they need when they need it because we are present. And what's better than being present for the life happening right in front of you? I don't believe I can think of anything.
