LIFE is Good Unschooling Conference: Day 1 (and a half)

Yeah we're back! In the US of A!

...which apparently means TV's in the hotel room! This is a completely faked pose. The TV was not on. The kids were just so hyped to be on our big trip that they started "goofing out" as Rhiannon calls it, with the remote control!

Homecoming Away

We left home at 5:50AM on Thursday, and arrived at the conference at about dinner time. Exhausted and a little cranky from the MANY wrong turns we made trying to find the right exits from the freeway, we suddenly found ourselves in a parking lot well-populated with decorated cars. Most had a plethora of bumper stickers, and some had other decorations, or recently-painted declarations of joy and unschooling. We had the collective feeling of fitting in. It was beautiful.

Then we walked into the conference centre lobby. Kids of all ages and colours (I include not only skin colours but much more vibrant hair, paint, and clothing colours, as well) lay sprawled out in various heaps and entanglements around the floor, walked around holding hands, and plied their wares of bracelets, crafts, bumper-stickers, greeting cards, and free hugs. It was a bit like the Vancouver Folk Society retreats that we love so much, but with 70% children, and a lot less music. There was a feeling of certainty that we were accepted.

Day 1
On Friday, we hopped around to various talks, circle chats and funshops, passing each other in the hallways (by far not the only family to be making use of little walkie-talkies), and a little bewildered and frazzled with the amount of information to absorb. Among the things we participated in were the Film Festival, Lego-building, Bionicle-building, Geocaching (there is a new travel-bug coming to Bowen, as a consequence), Theare Improv Games, Button-Making, Balloon-Sculpting, and Dads' Circle Chats and panels. I ran a MAMA Conversation, and arranged some interviews for later, too.

The greatest thing about this conference is the feeling of acceptance and diversity. A scan of the audience of the talent show, which was the biggest event of the weekend, so far, would show humans quite evenly distributed from the ages of newborn to grandparents (not many seniors, though), with hair-styles of every shape and colour imaginable, political leanings towards various extremes and in between, pacifists and military people, people with and without children, and families of many different educational philosophies. We are not the only people with a painted car, nor Rhiannon the only child who carries around a baby, nor Tal the only boy with long hair, nor the only poeple from BC. (In fact, Markus ran into someone he attended UVic with, at the button-making funshop!) But what is common in all of us seems to be that we are engaged in our lives and dreams, and in our children's lives. As simple as that sounds, it's a fabulous thing to have in common!

We think it's interesting to watch the bridge over the Columbia River go up and down. Interesting, too, that the main coastal artery (the I5) seems to stop even for a single lovely sailboat to pass by, underneath. Beautiful!

Glad to Be Where We Are
At the talent show, a couple got up and sang "We are Different", which apparently had been introduced at an earlier conference, and (just like everyone aged 2-60-something who got up on stage) received great applause and audience participation. When we went out into the community, however, things changed, a little. The further we got away from the conference and milling unschoolers, the less we fit in, and the more we felt like outsiders, partly because of our Canadian-ness and partly because we are "different". And suddenly that didn't seem like such an OK thing. This reminded me how lucky we are to live where we do; to live in a community rich with arts and diversity, acceptance and engaged people. Bowen is really quite unique in the world, and although we may be happy to have found such a concentration of "our people", here, we're also lucky to live in such a place, most days of the year.

(I'll add photos to this post when I get a chance to take them off the camera!!)

Tir-na-nOg: The land of perpetual youth...

...where Angus Og dreams the dream that inspires life for the rest of us.

Taliesin and Rhiannon have been attending Tir-na-nOg Theatre School on Bowen Island this year, and have both just finished their year-end plays. Taliesin played a few roles, including a Bionicle, Numero Uno, and a word-seller in the Phantom Tollbooth; Rhiannon played Aslan, a deer, and a villager in Narnia. They both adored their classes, and were proud to pieces about their performances. (Yes -- that includes Tali, who maintains his longtime conviction that he doesn`t perform... but has created an exception for Tir-na-nOg, now.)

Photography is not allowed during performances, so, for you, we had them each re-enact their biggest parts so we could post them on the blog. Rhiannon`s piece is her (Aslan`s) soliloquy to the animals, after creating the world, and Taliesin`s is his scene with his friend Ryan, where the brothers King Azaz (Ryan) and Numero Uno (Tal) argue over their beliefs until their father comes in to break up the fight. Since Tal and Ryan did this without the other actors, Ryan mimics the father, speaking, with his hand at the end!







Update - May 24: Today Taliesin and Rhiannon made gifts (Tal made a story and Rhiannon made a script for a play) to thank Jack and Julie. Please note that these are entirely of their own device. Tal asked me how to spell `thank`, I spelled it, and then explained that I thought it would be nicer if he just spelled things himself. The rest, including the spelling, ideas, thoughts and content, really do express our children`s love of their time with Jack and Julie. (Rhiannon never asked for help. She was finished her book before Tal finished his extensive decorations, which were, of course, what he started with. Unschooling cheer: I love to see how very different my kids` learning and creative styles are, but how they both manage to build what they need out of their own desires and inspirations.)

Click these to enlarge them; it makes it easier to read the pencil markings.

Rhiannon Learned to Ride!!!

Rhiannon`s quick growth has made it difficult for her to learn to ride, mostly because she was so afraid of falling. She needed a few incentives, and she got them, this week:
--a bigger bike
--a basket for her baby Meme to join her on travels
--the promise of riding the Venice Beach boardwalk with her friend Hunter in June

Here is Tal delivering his newly-grown-out-of bike to her, complete with the basket he got for her, and the stages of learning to ride, afterwards.

Deception Pass

First we crossed the first half of this two-span bridge. It`s impressive just as a bridge --

but then you look down.

And then you look more closely: It`s really very big!

There was camas growing everywhere,

and arbutus,

and beautiful steep hillsides covered with succulents and wild flowers!

And at the bottom there was a wonderful tidepool

with anemones, chitons, tube-worms, hermit crabs, fish, shellfish of many varieties, and even a pink sponge! The kids declared it better than the aquarium!

Then, back at the top before driving away, they also improved the sign, by adding a statue to it. :--)

Unschooling Family Adventure: Art Installation!!

We went to Port Townsend, WA, to install the MAMA Project at Fort Worden. It was our first trip family work-trip. We were hosted by some beautiful kindred spirits, Steve and Elaine, and, although we didn`t have much time to look around, we had a marvelous time, and came home feeling much richer in spirit.

We left on May 3rd, on the 5:30 ferry from home, were stopped, held up for an hour and searched at the border because the border agent said ``Why would you do art if you`re not making money!!`` Then we stopped in Burlington to pick up the donated wood for the stands (generously donated by Coast Lumber), and drove down Whidby Island to take the ferry to Port Townsend. We arrived at the installation space at 3, spent until very late at night setting up, while the kids entertained themselves very well and graciously.

Hello, USA!

Cutting the stand-components (it was extremely cold and windy out there on the balcony!)

First sheet to be hung, with the evening sun hitting it from behind.

The kids were EXTREMELY patient. They exhausted their supply of games & books soon, and just invented more...

...some of which were a bit difficult for adults to understand...

By 3PM the next day I had finished setting up the show (post about the MAMA Project, on my other blog, here)... (patient kids again), Markus worked remotely for the first 3 days from Steve and Elaine`s home, and then began the waiting for visitors. The promotion for the show was on the extreme minimalist side, and it took a loooong time for word of mouth to bring people in, so for the first 3 days I spend most of each day with the following as my view, while the kids explored the fort, together.

Then on the weekend things picked up and I became extremely busy, while Markus took the kids exploring. They had a fabulous time, and he`ll post about that shortly, since he`s the one with all the good photos from those days. The kids and Markus brought me beautiful flowers for the show, and on Sunday, which was Mothers` day, they showed up with, treasures, and a delicious lunch for me, too.

Then on Sunday evening, as soon as the show closed, we all got to work taking it down. It was a big job, but we worked hard, and managed to get it done sometime late at night (9, if my memory is correct). And when I say we worked hard, I mean everybody! The kids had incentive (getting out of there!) and really did their bit. It was the most enjoyable takedown I`ve done yet, working in joy and solidarity with my own kids.

...and then... we got up exceedingly early and went home.

Well not quite. We promised ourselves a beautiful adventure in Deception Pass on the way home, and that promise was fulfilled completely, as you`ll see in my next post (whenever I find time for it).

Goodbye, Port Townsend!

Hello Chetzemoka Ferry!

May Day!

This year we didn't have our own may celebration, but joined the Black Sheep's celebration in the cove. What a wonderful community we live in!!!

Hal an' tow!

Jolly tremelo!

We were up, long before the day-o!

To welcome in the summer!

To welcome in the May-O!

For Summer is a-comin' in an' winter's gone away - 

O!

Wild Food for (F)unschool

Only three families, this week, but we went foraging in the meadow and surrounding woods & marsh for wild food. On the menu this week were licorice fern root, salmonberry shoots and petals, dandelion blossoms and young leaves, new cedar and fir needles for tea... We looked for maple blossoms, but none were low enough to reach. Then we got distracted with holding some baby and adult snakes.

Wild food is rather behind, with all the chilly weather, this year. We'll try again in a couple of weeks and see what else we can gather.

 

...and we went home with flowers in our hair...

(which appeared there while climbing around in a wild plum)

Witness Excellent Teaching

I've talked about Brian, before, here. But last week Tal had his last violin day of the year with Brian, and I want to celebrate that, as well as give you all the opportunity to see really excellent non-coercive teaching in practice.

Brian Hoover is a virtuoso teacher. Not because he 'trains' people to be virtuosos, but precisely because he doesn't. Brian listens.

What you will witness in the 1/2 hour video below is Brian's extraordinary patience, flexibility, openness, and compassion. This is the definition, to me, of a good teacher. He acknowledges that teaching is not a one-way flow of information, but that it is a conversation, with acceptance and response being key to learning. In just 20 or 30 weeks (45 minutes/week), Brian has taught Tali many fundamental (conventional and unconventional) music skills, but above all he has become his friend.

Each class is a compassionate conversation between two people, through music. Beyond conventional musical theory, my son has learned to express himself, to hear music, to be open to ideas presented, that he has a valuable voice, and that the universe is available to him to create, to love, and to celebrate. And all of this happened while Brian honoured Tali's desire to hold his violin upright on his feet, and to never 'practice'!

Taliesin plays when he wants to, how he wants to, and he goes to his excellent teacher for inspiration, to learn about life, and for friendship.



Tali is very quiet. He prefers not to talk, if possible, until he has known somebody for quite a while. During the first few sessions with Brian, he was pretty quiet; he lightly fluttered the bow across the strings and mumbled a few words when absolutely required. He did the bare minimum. Then one day he played with volume. Volume! 

Exclaimed Brian, "Well - that's a different sound than usual!"

"Yes," Tali replied, through lowered lashes and a screen of long hair. "My violin found his voice again." 

Thank you, Brian, for your beautiful gift to us and to the world.

The Music Party on Ile Kerguelen

I heard music coming from somewhere deep in the woods beside our property. Harmonica and accordion.

This morning the kids decided to go on an adventure around the world, and checked on their inflatable globe-beachball where exactly the other side of the world is... Turns out to be Ile Kerguelen, where they tell me a French music party is happening! So they planned their route over land via Alaska, Russia, the middle East, and Africa, made plans for rafting across the aqueous parts of that route, packed up both winter clothes and sunhats, first aid supplies, a French dictionary, a camera, a harmonica and an accordion, and they left.

They said I can call them in if their friends come over.

One beautiful part of this is that it the following were the only input from me:


"Mama, Where's the exact other side of the world?"
"I don't know; maybe Australia. You'll have to check your globe."


"Mama, can we bring the big first aid kit?"
"No; please don't."

Home

On Friday 3 things converged upon my sense of place:

• read a post at Radio Free School called Staying Local
• finally replied with my feelings about our learning centre taking a family field-trip to Mexico
• went on another (f)Unschool adventure close to home

The Radio Free School post inspired me to chime in on the issue, too. So here it is.

I've always felt very strongly that the beginning of any exploration (including life) needs to begin with the self. When a baby is born she first discovers the feeling of touch on dry skin; of air in her lungs, and the sound of her own voice. As she nurses, the simple act of living is her connection with her mother and her experience of the world around her. As she grows and her eyes become able to focus; her ears to differentiate voices, intonations, pressure changes, etc. she begins her relationship with the wider world. She moves into this relationship from a place of security, knowing that the strong connection she has with her mother will be her safety net; her 'home'. At first she will watch the world from her mother's breast: the changing texture of skin, the rolling of her mother's hair, the smell of milk and sweat; the feelings she's experiencing, and her own breath. Eventually she will take interest in movement and light, in her parents' faces and clothing, and also in others. She will look out from the safety of the arms whose smell and touch she knows as 'home' to explore the world around her with her eyes and ears, with her nose, and eventually with her skin and mouth. As she ventures into that world, she will return to 'home' for security and reassurance, at first dozens of times during the day, then perhaps one dozen, then just a few, as the safety net she's developed in her firm rooting of 'home' becomes less and less necessary. Eventually she'll move out of her parents' house and return perhaps once every few days with a phonecall to her parents or siblings, to talk.

It is the knowledge that that 'home' exists that gives her courage to explore beyond it.

I think most of us accept this scenario as normal. So isn't it normal, too, then, to expect all learning to follow a similar course? When our learning community was pondering having a family fieldtrip to Mexico, I responded that although I understand that those who can afford to travel find educational benefit in seeing other countries, I think it's very important, especially for younger kids, to learn and become inspired about our own home community, first. Although our kids do projects and field-trips and vacations to learn about other countries, cultures, and ecosystems, when do they learn about their own homes? How much time do most of us really spend getting to know our immediate surroundings? Every week I take families out to explore our island - the richness of history, ecology, biology, and sociology on this island is the same as everywhere else in the world, and it's free for us to explore. Every week, most if not all of the kids make discoveries that to them are 'amazing': things in our own 'home' that they never knew existed; things which inspire them to be interested in learning of all sorts, that inspire them to be curious learners, in general. We're developing a close bond with our home, so that the complex sciences of life have a grounding in that safe place the children know; so that we can grow our interest in these sciences from our deep understanding and concern for how those sciences apply to our 'home'.

We know home matters, so it matters to us to learn about it. Our learning community's director answered my email with these words: "One thing I really notice is that young kids especially are very present and mostly noticing the little things right in front of their noses. If you take them on some far away trip, what they remember the most is the flower they picked, or the water in the pool, or the dog that played with them, or the big hole they saw - which leaves you wondering why you paid so much money to go that far anyways!"

A couple of years ago I led a folk-song series with kids from our learning community, and did what I felt was natural: I started them off with a map of our island, and encouraged them to find their homes. From there, we began by singing songs about our island. It was that simple. Yes, we covered topics such as folk music, mining (there are mines on the island, marked on the map), driving (we pretended to drive around the map) and island life, but the root of it all was the children's understanding of their connection to the bit of land we call 'home'.

This past week for our usual (f)Unschool exploration we went up the bluffs on Mt. Collins. We got to know a piece of our home. Here are some visuals, photographed by myself, Rhiannon, and Beata:

Microcosm:

smell, touch, texture, physical connection, and tiny tiny things to see and hear

being here

Macrocosm:

Our smallness on the big island that sometimes seems small, itself. Our insignificance on a steep mossy slope; trees and rocks and animals whose existence supports ours, and whose fate is our responsibility.

Being Here.

Synthesis:

(Joy!)