Tuesday school begins in earnest

Today we tried out everything Mama had planned for Tuesdays, except ballet, which begins next week... and perhaps Mama was a little overzealous. Rhiannon went to preschool (only 1/2 the class, this time), then Tali and I walked to preschool to get her, discovering on the way various seasonal things, the most interesting of which were mushrooms, a red-legged frog, and some easychairs which appear to have been dumped into the creek beside the works yard. Hmph. Then Rhiannon walked back with us, and we had lunch. After lunch we spent a couple of hours (!) looking up information on the frog and mushrooms, and working on the children's journal entries. Rhiannon's was 3 different depictions of Nana teaching preschool, one wearing lovely "orange underpants and a pink shirt and googly eyes"!. Tali's was a lovely drawing of a new home for poor Mr. Frog, who was obviously going to have to move, since there was garbage in his creek. He spent about an hour just working on sounding out the descriptions of his drawing, and the sentences "This is a pond with lilies." and "We saw a red-legged frog." He seems to have grasped the concept of spelling "th", now.

After all this we went out again for our Wild Food Day. We had hoped to gather cattail roots, the tops of which we hoped to boil and eat like potatoes, and the bottoms we planned to mash into flour for bread. WELL..... it seems we either have the wrong sort of cattails, or I wasn't digging deep enough. We never found the large, fleshy, potato-like balls at the top of the roots, and we found mostly rotten roots, other than one 3-inch piece, which I think would have yielded a teaspoon or so of flour, had I bothered to process it. We did, however, have a wonderful time in the mud, and finding the various stages of tadpole/frogs that still live there, as well as managing to discover a few new cattail shoots hiding in the water, which the children ate mostly on the spot (photo). We ate the rest fresh with zucchini and borage flowers for dinner.

In the end the children dug up potatoes from the garden, and rounded out the meal with beans, pod-peas and (store-bought) asparagus, accented by some store-bought milk, butter, and cheese. YUM!

However, by the end of the day the children were definitely feeling a little too tired. I think I will try to either make the journal time shorter next time, or move Wild Food Day to another day in the week. The latter is probably a better option, since foraging usually will take us on long adventures, and that will be too much after our morning 4km hike. We'll see how it goes.

Anyway, that wraps up the first experimental Tuesday!

School vs. not school

A couple of parents today at the Learning Centre were discussing their dislike of the word school. One actually said it's a big reason she doesn't send her child to preschool. Because it's preschool. They likened it to institutionalizing our kids. Well obviously that doesn't fit my views, because I know my Mum's general philosophy and the way her preschool program works, and I think she's amazing (not good; AMAZING at giving children a strong start and a self-confidence in social groups that for some would not otherwise have come -- and I am far from the only parent who thinks that; I meet people all the time who confirm it). But besides that (and I am sure that there are lots of good preschools out there, besides my own mother's), I think we need to get away from rejecting things based on terminology. I don't feel at all that a preschool or homelearner's program, or even a traditional school or an Institute needs per se to institutionalize our children. I can tell you that at the time I attended (until 2001), the Emily Carr Institute of Art and Design was by no means regimented or even adhering to very high academic standards. It was much more loose than I thought reasonable for a degree-granting Institution, actually. And in general a good school. School. Yes. And good. I felt my freedom there.

So if I talk about Tali going to school, it isn't diction-laziness, nor is it an acclamation of an institutionalized way of living - it's just language. Tal goes to school, now, and he's proud of himself, and I'm proud that we've found a school that makes school a good word.

School Days

Well the beginning is over, now. It was a long haul through the first two days of Learning Centre classes (plus more meetings and training/bug-fixing for the new websites we've developed recently). I learned a LOT about my son, about my goals and hopes for his education and our family life; about myself, even: what went wrong in my own education and how my participation in my children's education, combined with having such an excellent program can make my children's experience utterly different. I now know why my mother was so often involved in my classes: she was helping me. I suppose I always knew that, but I have now finally experienced teachers who are not only open to hearing my requests, comments, and particular hopes for Tal, but actively seek out my input. Wow. This is wonderful.

So here's the story:

Taliesin was excited, but paralyzed with fear, once we got there, both Thursday and Friday. Even after recovering a little from the initial paralysis, he refused to do the assignments, and I first attributed it to fear. First they were to go to stations, but since I was helping at the drawing station, Taliesin didn't want to do any others. Then I left it to take him to the calendar station with the other two (much younger) kindergartens, and they were shown a few numbers to copy. Tali knows his numbers quite reliably, and kept saying "I already know that" and refused even to draw a picture on his calendar. Then the teacher read a book aloud, and asked the children to draw a picture of something they liked and print the words "What I liked was ____". Then on the next page the same about something they didn't like. Taliesin refused again, and rudely, so I left the room. When the project was finished, he had drawn a tree, because he likes trees, although there weren't any in the story, and he had neatly printed: "I DID NOT LIKE THE STORY". Then he took it home to finish: "THE STORY WAS BORING".

I had two concerns: one, that the teacher had spelled and American "favorite" on the easel at the centre, and seemed to think that was acceptable as one of the correct spellings in Canada. I disagree, but didn't argue the point. Secondly, I spoke to her about the possibility that Taliesin feels patronized by being grouped with the younger Kindergartens, learning the basics of letters, when he already knows most of them. I guessed at this because I remember feeling that way myself as a child: it felt like the teachers just really didn't know that I already knew these things, and perhaps they thought I was stupid. I thought the assignments were boring and a waste of time. So I suggested that even though he is not able to sound out more than about 3 words before becoming tired or frustrated, he might prefer to be given the challenge, anyway. We went home to an evening of repeated meltdowns and angry rejections of anything and everything I tried to do (dinner, getting out of bath, etc.) I knew it was probably just the effects of a hugely-stressful day: his first ever day at school, but I was dreading what today might be like.

Today was only a half day. After some group games which Tali politely declined to participate in, while hiding in my skirt, the children were read to again, and he excitedly took a space beside Rhiannon, in the middle of the group. Then they were sent off for journal-writing. One teacher began to round up the Kindergartens for a "letter-rap" game (A is for apple, A, A, A... B is for banana, B, B, B...) and Tal went off to get his journal, not yet realizing he was on his way to the letter-rap. The teacher I had spoken to yesterday came and asked me if she should put Taliesin in with the journal-writers, instead, and I referred the question to Tal: "A is for apple, A, A, A... or printing in your journal?"

"My journal!" He smiled, puffed his chest out, and chose his own seat beside a girl we know from the Celtic Music Sessions we attend (he says it's coincidence that she's the same girl he's chosen to sit beside for lunch and pretty much every other table-task). Today he was allowed to make a picture of anything he liked or had experienced, so he drew the little space-bear he had brought with him. The teacher came over and gave him a little letter-card, which he used with great interest and care to help sound out the words he printed: "This is a spacebear." He was then SO proud of himself, that he spend the rest of the day exuberantly playing, talking to other children, and just generally being a delightful, happy boy. He saw someone taking a violin lesson, and decided he would like to start violin lessons. At home he took out his violin to practice before taking it down to the Celtic Session and fiddling there, too. He went to bed with his baby, Aslakay in his arms, and grinning sweetly at me. I am sure the road to becoming a big boy is not all smooth from here on, but I feel renewed!

I realized today how VERY similar Tali and I are at school, which is going to be hugely valuable in my understanding of him, and my ability to help him succeed. Basically he wants to be challenged far beyond his level, so that he feels respected. He deals much better with failure than with a perceived inability, or a fear of failure. When he's challenged he feels strong and confident. That's certainly a good thing to know!

As for my feelings about the classroom setting, it's still more regimented that I hoped, but certainly better than I've seen at our (what I consider to be very good) traditional public school, here. I can see how this has happened; it's a fast-growing program, and there are an increasing number of people involved who want a more traditional classroom-setting. We probably will phase out the classroom eventually if Taliesin and Rhiannon end up getting lots of social interaction through their other classes and the family events at the Learning Centre, but until then, and possibly even permanently, this arrangement is very good! The children really are, for the most part, incredibly considerate of each other's needs and feelings, which is something I've never seen at the big schools. Tali is as accepted within the older (grade 1,2,3's) groups as he is with his 4-year-old Kindergarten mates, and he finds equal ground somehow with all of them. An older boy today asked around for help peeling his banana, not to adults, but to the older children, and someone reached down from the top monkey bars to do it for him. He peeled about an inch: "There. Is that good?" "Yep. Thank you!" The children willingly left swings to give waiting children a turn after a few minutes. They encouraged each other at various activities, and helped each other in the classroom - all without being asked by adults. In a group of about 20 children aged 4 - 8, approximately, not once did I see someone teased or criticized. Not once did I hear a fight or see someone excluded. If I had had access to a program like this I would be a completely different person, today. And I think Tali will just shine, here. As far as the social structure goes, this centre is everything I hoped for.

Now for the dentist, tomorrow. :--) Goodnight!

The All-Parent Meeting, and more Enlightenment

In which... a bunch of parents get together and I discover how truly diverse the Learning Centre population really is. And I discover that I am much more radical than I realized.

There I sat at this meeting, seeing many people in attendance I had no idea had children, let alone were homelearning families. Well maybe they're not. It became apparent to me that some of the families at the Centre see it as a form of alternative school. Which it is. And probably the closest form of school possible to having no school at all.

So at the beginning of the meeting the amazing, thoughtful, warm and creative teachers handed out a pile of papers, and many lists and schedules and forms, both in the pile and on the back table, etc etc etc... and I was overwhelmed. I don't think I'm overwhelmed because the way they do it is wrong, or because I'm just not capable of handling so much organization; I think I was imagining the centre to be much more loosely organized than it is. I know in my heart that what my children need right now is a safe community in which to hone their social skills. I also know that after they've managed to feel safe in a broader community, and have a more permanent social network, we will likely get out of the system.

I don't like the word system. I am afraid to be criticized and terrified of doing wrong by my children - especially because there are so many people who have declared to me that I am failing them by denying them a "proper" education. This is because the systems we've tried out weren't right for us. But when Taliesin was born my mother gave me the best piece of parenting advice I've ever received: No matter what anybody says, even me, trust your feeling. Know that you know in your heart what is right for your own children. I don't like the word system. It is not right for us. I have turned in my declaration of conscientious objection to vaccination to the preschool, and although I've faced no criticism (after all it's my own mother teaching, and she understands our reasons for objecting), felt like an outcast. I don't like systems. I have never fit into systems. Systems create outcasts. Systems are boxes, holding neatly arranged components made of other boxes, and scared and frantic souls bouncing around inside of them trying, trying to follow the laws that are made for all people, when in fact there is no "all people" -- just people. People who generally don't fit the systems.

I was reading the BC School Act, and it made me feel trapped again. Now I have to figure out how much of it I can ignore. I don't think I am an anarchist, but I'm certainly not orderly. I hope after a few years on this journey my family begins to have an understanding of who we are. Does this mean I am a "radical unschooler"? I don't want to be. Yet another title with rules and stereotypes that aren't necessarily in line with my beliefs.

I feel like the floodwaters are starting to break free and the walls of my static-world imprisonment are just about to come crashing down. Then what will I do!? I can't just dance around in the forest ALL the time, can I? (Maybe I will.;-) There's plenty to learn in the forest, after all.

Second Day: First Absence

Well today was to be our first ever day with the Learning Centre: a field trip to the Vancouver Art Gallery! We boarded bus with the rest of the kids, then the bus boarded the ferry, the ramp went up, and Taliesin vomited. Since the ramp was up, we had to ride all the way to the other side, then wait an hour while the ferry did the no-passengers dangerous cargo trip, then return home, all the while carrying the sick boy, the useless lunch, and the jealous little girl (why doesn't SHE get carried, anyway?!). By the time we got home he had vomited 3 times, and now he is asleep on the couch. I will be very educational today and let them watch Pingu if indeed he feels like it, later. Our movie schedule is: approximately once a month, or when somebody's too sick to go out. And that is certainly today.

Tonight is the all-parents' meeting at the Learning Centre. Tomorrow is the first class for the Kindergarteners, there (a full day; we'll see how he lasts), and also Rhiannon will have her first official visit to the preschool (15 minutes intro and meet the teachers). For those who are new to our family, my mother is the preschool teacher, and Rhiannon has been visiting preschool and desperate to attend for 2 years, already. The Learning Centre will be a very big step for Taliesin; Preschool will not be such a change for Rhiannon. Still she's excited, of course!!

Day One: Kindergarten and Preschool at the Dining Room Table.

...of course, technically, according to our educational philosophy, day one was the day we burned a candle together and pleaded with the universe to bring us a baby...

But that was before we had heard of unschooling.

Today was very enlightening, and for me a great leap into the world of unschooling. It was supposed to be our first scheduled day of homelearning: I set a schedule so that we'd actually get specific things done, and not let every day dwindle away into lego-building and drawing. Tuesdays will begin at 9 with some loose math and reading activities, then a walk through the landscape to pick up Rhiannon from preschool, during which we will study the plants and animals as they traverse the seasons. Today, since Rhiannon doesn't start preschool until Thursday, we instead made covers for the journals I bought the kids, and were planning to then do our first "wild food day", where we would harvest something from the wilds (ocean, lake, meadow, forest, etc) and incorporate it into a family-cooked meal. And... well... to be honest, the day didn't go so very well.

There were actually only a few hiccoughs in the morning. Tali trudged through some math activities that were too simple and therefore boring, until I remembered hating the exact same exercises as a child, for the exact same reasons ("if they just want you to show that you know the number, then why can't you just tell the number, instead of drawing six of the stupid bananas!?")... and I told him so, and suggested he just tell me the numbers and be done with it. My children will not be forced to do pointless monotonous tasks in the name of education. Education will make them WANT to draw bananas. Or something. Lesson 1 for today: no pointless banana drawing. He flipped to the middle of the book and found a nice dot-to-dot to do, thereby practising the numbers 1-20. He was very pleased with himself when he was done. Next time I'll let him choose right away.

I think Taliesin and Rhiannon (who will be starting preschool this Thursday, at the same time as Taliesin begins his first Learning Centre day) are going through some pre-school jitters. Stress. Not to mention we're all recovering from a couple of nasty viruses. Today progressed into one grumpy grumpy 5-year-old tantrum, until he did not want to help harvest the mint, nor pick blackberries, nor even cook the mint jelly he had initially been so excited about, and decided to torment Rhiannon some more, simply because I had gone to the garden to get some beans and he thought I couldn't hear him. Do you see where this is going? I lost my patience quite a few times, and by the end of the day, after we'd made amends and he'd gone to bed, I collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Oh well, I thought. I'm a crazy-woman, now! And Markus sat calmly beside me, his arm draped over my head, as I watched the white rainbows on the ceiling and found my way, again.

Those rainbows have been here for me all of my life. I can't remember much from the time before we went up to Squamish to get this repossessed trailer and bring it home. Pappa covered it with home-milled cedar siding, and stuck a sign on it: the Phantom Rickshaw. And it's been my true home ever since. When it came for rent seven years ago, Markus and I came home immediately. The white pressboard ceiling hung over my childhood bed as it hangs over my bed again now. The pattern repeats in that infuriating way where you're never really sure which rainbow is the repeater; they're so almost alike.

And as I lay there on the kitchen floor, looking at my painted cupboards, thinking how my mother never would have painted the cupboards so garishly, there suddenly came visions of grass to my teared-up eyes, and I remembered running through the field on the other side of the road, where this trailer originally sat, with flowers in my hand for my mother. My mother wanted to see anything that was beautiful, and she was the most beautiful woman in the world and I wanted to be her favourite person, and I wanted to see her smile. Then I realized that the reason the field was grassy was because my Pappa made it that way, wandering around with a bag of seed like van Gogh's Sower in a purple sunset, he is still there in my mind, and I see him casting long trails of grass-seed again when I look at the ceiling in this house. The reason I was running to my Mama with a flower - it was a buttercup, I think - was because she was making my world beautiful. Images of clothing and food and gardens came flooding through my mind as I watched the white rainbows in the ceiling. My parents gave me the gift of inspiration long before unschooling was in vogue. They took me out of school and bore the reprimands of my teachers, so that I could visit quaint galleries with them in town, and sit on Granville Island to watch the weirdos with crazy hair -- never realizing that I would one day be one of those weirdos attending the exact same art school. My Dad had long hair and leather clogs (and skipped down the road to my absolute horror as a teenager)... because that is who he was and he wasn't hiding it. My parents did what they felt was right, and all of it got somehow stored away in my heart to be retrieved simply by looking at those endless white rainbows of the pressboard ceiling of the Phantom Rickshaw. One day we hope to replace this old and moldy house. But those ceiling panels are coming with me. And no this unschooling is not a mistake.

Welcome to Rickshaw Unschooling. :--)

Unschooling Philosophy

Unschooling, also known as free schooling, child-directed learning, and natural learning, is our educational philosophy and goal for our family. The word unschooling seems to spark quite a bit of controversy, which we feel is in part due to the radical sound of the word. The word isn't going away, however, so we have to live with it.

Basically what we are aiming for in our children's education is a loosely structured system of learning that is both exciting and flexible for all of us. That is: it's a lifestyle for the whole family. Learning doesn't happen at school; it happens everywhere, all the time, throughout our lives. Instead of being given assignments indended to "teach" concepts, the children (and we) will learn from those concepts coming into play in our daily activities and projects. We've always been aware of learning opportunities in everything we do. That doesn't mean we press the kids to read every word they see, or to help tally the groceries. But when they show any interest at all, we try to encourage it. And we have an unending trajectory of projects and adventures, some of which were conceived for their ability to educate/inspire the kids.

So why school at all? Because we believe that the most important aspect of group education is social skills, and that is something we cannot give our children here in the Rickshaw with only the immediate family around. We don't want the wild, often-violent and frightening social life of the public school playground, but a nurturing, supervised, mixed-age group where they can learn to celebrate individuality and togetherness. That is what we hope to get at our local Homelearner's Program (AKA The Learning Centre), where, starting this Thursday, Taliesin will be doing 1.5 days per week of learning with other children aged 5 to 8 approximately. He has the option to attend many other events at the centre, and the option to skip classes entirely without any reprimand from us or his teachers, as long as he is willing to discuss his decisions. We hope that the centre will also help us navigate the legalities of what we're choosing to do, as well as facilitate our homelearning.

I've found myself trying to explain our stance on education many times over the past few months, as we've navigated the procedure of signing Taliesin up for the Learning Centre. We've encountered a lot of genuine concern for our children's wellbeing, from people who, quite frankly, don't know what we're talking about... and that's our fault. It's hard to explain! Mostly that's because of our fear of criticism... Anything so radical as "unschooling" seems pretty scary, even to us, at times. It's partly uncharted territory, and requires a lot more from the parents than more traditional forms of schooling. But we believe in it wholeheartedly, and, since this is all about listening to the children, are ensuring that their options are left open. So if they decide to go to the local elementary school after a couple of months or a few years, they still can.