Is Unschooling Hands Off?

I've seen posts in which people share a common misunderstanding about the nature of radical unschooling. One Mom new to unschooling wrote, " My one Unschooling disclaimer is that for us, we do not embrace “Radical Unschooling”. It’s usually a secular belief that children are not to be told what to do ever… And other thoughts that I just don’t subscribe to."

Yes, radical unschooling is often a secular belief, tho some people who choose radical unschooling are also Christian, but I suppose that if one is adamant about not allowing any secular ideals into their family home, that radical unschooling likely won't be a good fit. However, the idea that children are not to be told what to do ever, isn't part of our radical unschooling home. We have boundaries, respect for each other, principles of safety and kindness and we give loads of guidance in how to navigate relationships, both at home and in our community outside our home.

I have known a few families who seem to practice the hands-off method cited by the people who seem to think unschooling is inconsistent with giving children valuable direction in how to get along in the world. I've met and heard stories about parents who profess they never tell a child what to do -- that radical unschooling means "learning from the world" or some such. While they might call themselves radical unschoolers, they are mistaken if they tell others that radical unschooling means parents never say no to a child, or don't help a child who has been unkind or disrespectful to other people to find better, more considerate ways to interact with others.

I understand how those misunderstandings happen, and the only way for those of us who want to help our children navigate the world in kind, thoughtful ways -- and who consider such guidance essential to unschooilng as a whole-life practice -- is for us to clarify this for folks who are new to or exploring unschooling. I'm confident that families who work to be present and helpful to their children are the majority in the radical unschooling community. Families who never tell a child what to do are the minority, tho sometimes they seem to be the most vocal and visible minority.

My boys have been through seasons where, on the surface, it looked like they only did or ate one thing -- only white foods (yes, really), only high-sugar junk foods, only played Grand Theft Auto. When they'd spend a whole week target-firing one pellet gun or another, or talked of nothing but knives, or motorcycles, or World of Warcraft. I had people tell me I needed to limit the games, control the food, refuse to by them pellet guns or knives; that indulging kids' whims in this way would make them violent, thoughtless, or unkind. I simply don't have it in me to tell someone I love that their feelings, passions, and aversions don't matter to me; that their needs don't matter because as the adult I know what's best for them. So I stood my ground. I watched my kids, I offered my own experiences, perspective, and insights. I shared resources and stories from other people. We talked about articles, tv shows, books, things I'd heard in school, things other people believe. We talked about how my kids felt, what other people thought and said about their choices, what folks worried about, what my kids and I did or did not worry about. Mostly we talk. A lot. Really a lot. People warn that eating a certain food or watching a specific tv show will affect a child's mood, and that their only choice was to limit those things. Our moods are affected by so many things -- how much sleep we got, if something hurts a bit today, the distractions of sounds, smells, scratchy clothes, how the floor feels under our feet today, and so much more. I got into any situation with my kids remembering that what I think is going on may be completely untrue. The only way I can really know is to be open to any combination of factors. If I go in convinced it's about what my kid ate, or because I let him watch a tv show or play a particular video game, I may completely miss what my kid really needs. As kids get older and can tell us what they're feeling it gets somewhat easier.
I'm 51, and I don't always know why I'm in a particular mood. I can hear Gary say something, nod my head, feel sympathy for him, know what I want to say, how I want to feel. Then when I open my mouth, what I say may be very different from what I was thinking. If that's true at my age, I can be sure my kids sometimes don't know why they feel or say as they do. In those moments, instead of thinking I know why he said or did that, and attributing it to the food he ate, or the video game he was playing, I listen and empathize. I offers options, usually including some that fit what I guess might be going on for my kid. In my better moments, I offer even the options I think are unlikely.

Imposing limits and controls based on fear, or on what others tell us to worry about seldom meets needs or brings any peace. And there's so much joy and wonder we'd have missed along the way.

Giving Your Kids Everything They Want

Recently in an online conversation that began with how shocking it is that some of us more experienced unschoolers (I've been at this for about 13 yrs - my boys are 29, 18, and 13) recommend not limiting tv, or food, don't require chores, etc, I read this: 

"However I know people who were given everything they wanted as children, never told no and oh my they turned out to be the most self absorbed entitled people I have ever meet. I don't want that for my children." [sic]

My entire life, I have heard the assertion that if you give kids what they want, simply because they want it, they'll become selfish. It was my mother's reason for being as restrictive as she was (and in some ways, she was pretty liberal) -- that people who always get their way are selfish. Mind you, she always got her way where we kids were concerned. Who was selfish? That was always the question I wisely kept to myself as a girl.

For me, the point is this -- "people who were given everyTHING they wanted". Contrast that to what I see when we more experienced folks talk about what we did and still do while our kids were eating what they wanted, watching what they wanted, playing the video games with dangerous reputations for violence or misogyny. We're not talking about setting the kids in front of the tv and going off to do our own thing. Every seasoned unschooler I've seen comment or reply to online questions shares examples of how we watched WITH our kids, and started conversations about what we see on tv. We explore foods our kids like, offer foods we love, talk about how food makes us feel, the bigger social and political contexts of what we read, play with, or consume (both food and media). We talk about how other people feel, and what they believe in contrast to what we believe. We ask our kids why they believe as they do; who or what informs their choices and values?

I recall Pam Sorooshian once posting - and I'm paraphrasing here, but I hope to get the gist of it -- that just as people warn that kids with who are never punished will end up in jail, there are surely lots of people in jail who had rules and limits and were denied things and told NO *because kids need to hear NO* (one of my Mom's biggies).

It seems to me that the reason parents most often set limits on what they will allow their children to have at home -- bad food, irreverent tv shows, violent video games, for example -- is fear. Usually it's a fear that their children will be harmed, either physically or emotionally and developmentally by untoward influences. I'm not sure how to calm all those fearful voices.

For me, the answer has been to figure out what matters to me. Do I want happy children? Will watching tv shows that make fun of others lead my children to be mean? Will playing video games with stolen cars or fights between medieval fantasy characters encourage them to be violent in person? Is sugar really a poison to all bodies and to be avoided by everyone?

I think usually what those people whose lives fell apart lack is presence from a parent who is willing to listen, reflect, model, and question everything in the goal of helping find out what that child needs, who he or she is, and why. To do that, though, you need to be willing to sit down to watch the tv shows, serve the food that maybe you don't like or think is junk, try things that maybe scare you or challenge your accepted notions. It's all about being with your kids, not about setting controls meant to keep them with you philosophically. Sometimes this also means finding ways to really listen and be with a child whose needs are different from the needs of the other people in the family, it often means stretching yourself in ways you never could have anticipated.

A Toolbox Full of Hammers

I've not read much on the Adrian Peterson story (the Ray Rice story pretty much depleted my reserves) but what I do see saddens me. People defending the actions of a man who abused his 4yo child; a DA stating that Peterson "exceeded the standards" for disciplining his child, as if there is an acceptable standard for hitting someone younger, smaller, and weaker than you; folks trotting out the old "I was spanked and I turned out fine" line.

I'm not the first to say it, and I hope to not be the last: If you think it's acceptable to hit anyone you profess to love - your partner, your child, or your parent - you did NOT turn out fine. You learned poor methods. The people who loved you shared the same parenting toolbox full of hammers they were given, and really you deserved better. So do your kids. We all do.

Online I read a perspective that professional athletes should be held to a higher standard. I'd like to see everyone held to a higher standard for kindness, especially as parents and partners.

That said, I do not think throwing anyone out of any profession in response to abuse allegations, or even a first conviction, is a good policy. The knowledge that if a partner, spouse, or parent is alleged to be an abuser it would cost that person their entire career -- and all your family income -- would be a deterrent for some victims; it would push abuse further underground. Mandatory counseling and parenting classes (because adults who hit other adults WILL hit children), follow up, legal compliance, supervised visitation for child abuse situations - absolutely. But ejecting someone from his or her career at the first allegation? No. Let's try helping them learn better ways first. I'm pretty sure everyone who hits a loved one was themselves hit by a loved one. It's a learned behavior. People can learn better ways. But only if we talk about it, only if they're given a second chance. I'm not saying no consequences, just a reasonable first response.

What About Tests?

Over the past few weeks, we've been reviewing a practice test for the Accuplacer test used by our local community college as part of Andy's exploration of what's next for him. We learned a few things. 

First, we are all grammar geeks, with no tolerance for typos, and poorly proofed sample exams. Really, if this practice test is indicative of the sort of education one receives in public school, our boys didn't miss anything important. Questions included "you bought a boat for $10,000. You have made 9 payments of $450 each. How much have you paid for the car?" And one that opened with Rome, and closed with London. Such bad proofreading. I do hope the actual test is clearer.

Second, the boys learned (I already knew) that tests are designed to trip you up. The questions and paragraphs to read (for the comprehension portion) are either confusing or mind-numbingly boring. Passing tests is about test-taking ability, and not necessarily an accurate measure of actual knowledge.

Third, Andy found math easier than he feared. The biggest challenge was his unfamiliarity with math notation. The concepts and how to make math work were logical, even where they were intentionally arcane.

All of which makes me question the value of said placement test.

Oh, and he took the tests cold, with no study or prep. If we needed proof, there's some that unschooling *works*. That's not why we unschool, tho. We do it because it makes us happy, and happiness is reason enough for me.

The Shame Button

Earlier today, on facebook, a friend shared a link to a blog post about the damage done when parents post shaming photos of their children.  It was a great blog post, and after reading it, I shared the link.  A bit later, when reading the comments where a friend shared the same link, I found that a friend had been "made aware that apparently she's all for *privately* humiliating and shaming and punishing her children. And she attributes this to the reason she has a great relationship with them today." 

That prompted me to read her site.  I don't find anything that specifically suggests privately shaming kids, tho I do see things that, to me, feel consistent with the sort of control of kids that makes me uncomfortable.  As a result,  I removed the link on my facebook wall. 

When parents use private humiliation, a practice often so accepted and subtle that it seems everyone promotes its use, kids end up hurt both today and in the long-term.  Private humiliation, whether as subtle as "I'm disappointed in you" or as obvious as telling your child s/he is stupid and careless, is shaming.  In my experience, it's some serious crazy-making.  Sure, you'll hear, from both experienced parents and parenting experts, that such guidance (control, abuse) is necessary for helping children to be come "good people", that keeping those comments private actually protects your relationship with your child. We've all heard the "praise in public, reprimand/criticize/scold in private" maxim.  Sure, we know that publicly criticizing people -- children or adults -- is a bad idea.  It creates divides, makes everyone look bad, and almost never leads to actual progress.  Rather it just motivates people to not get caught being wrong, to become sneaker in how they get by, so as not to be publicly humiliated.  It's not an effective method for helping a child learn expected behavior, especially when the standard for that behavior is an appearance of perfection set to make parents look good by having wonderfully packaged children.

Here's my experience with "private humiliation".

Parent who engage in private humiliation -- what an awful phrase those two words makes! -- create damaged kids.

When a parent praises their child in front of others, often using that praise for self-aggrandizement as a parent, then privately insults, shames, criticizes, minimizes, or otherwise shuts down their child's feelings, it creates a schism for the child. The child -- and all the children in that family -- are required to live two competing 'truths'; to be shame-filled privately, and also graciously accept public praise, all to create the the public image that makes it look like everything is good and right. Often, the parents inflate a child's accomplishments or ability for the purpose of making it appear the parents are doing a better-than-average job with the child.  This is the self-aggrandizement part of it. 

Where does that leave the child, tho?  The child knows that she isn't really as accomplished as the parent just told people she is.  She knows that if she's asked to demonstrate the skill the parent just publicized, she'll fail to do as well as expected.  She wonders if there's any way to point out that her parent just puffed up her credentials, if there's any gracious way to say "no, I'm not really that good."  It would be seen as some sort of false modesty, at best, which becomes more awkward.  

Why do parents feel a need to brag about how accomplished a child is?  Does the parent want credit for the child's work, or maybe just innate talent?  And how does that square up with the child's knowledge that her parent really feels she's not good enough at any number of other things? When all anyone hears publicly is praise -- which differs from genuine celebration of another's talents or accomplishments -- and privately hears criticism and is told she's just not trying hard enough, that she's "too smart to make that mistake".





It's enough to make a child question their very sense of what's true -- are they worthy of shame and so unlovable that lies must be presented? 

How far do we go to keep those lies secret, to hide our private shame?  When and how is it okay to share something that, for decades, felt like a personal failing, but we later find out is a very normal experience?  What's private and what's secret, and how do we ever learn to take ourselves less seriously, that we don't need to be perfect to be accepted? 

How do we ever share our truth without fearing others will find us completely unworthy? 

How do we become better parents in our own turn? 

Do we forgive our parents and move forward? Is it even fair to ask ourselves to forgive the people who treated this way? Is it possible to see the injured children our parents were, and acknowledge that they learned the shame tactics from damaged people who shamed them? 

Or is it an impossible situation to heal? Is everyone better served by cutting ties and starting anew? 





I don't have the answers to those questions. I'm still finding my own way out from a childhood of public over-praise and private shaming, of being exposed and minimized in unsafe ways and yet asked to keep private the ugly secrets of others. 

So, if/when someone suggests that privately shaming your child is a necessary evil that will bring good in the long term, don't believe that crap. It's a lie.

I'll post some positive ideas for how to handle those moments when our kids do things that make us feel embarrassed or ashamed as a parent, when our own shame/praise buttons are pushed.  Maybe tomorrow. 

Yes, they know life can be hard

I'm deep in another rant, so it must be time for another blog post!  Where to begin..... 

What is the compulsion people, especially adults talking to teens, have to rain on parades? 

A late-teenage kid says to an adult "Hey, I'm looking into this trade course program maybe, thinking I might like to do X with my life for a while." Then he shares some ideas bigger than he can't do right away, but very cool stuff he could do some day. Or maybe he'll try some classes, get out into the world, and find other cool stuff to do someday.  Mostly, it's just the excitement and possibilities he shares.  His own personal parade, to which he's invited someone he hopes might be excited for him.  

The adult, I assume with the intent of, I don't know, enlightening the kid (I'm trying to assume positive intent here) says something like, "Wait, once upon a time ago, you quit a similar activity you tried."  

Kid, who until this moment was excited about his plans, and now is wondering why the hell he said anything, and replies with something like "yeah, I didn't like that particular thing then, I think it was the instructions or something."  

Adult says "well, when you go to school and learn to do X, you'll have to follow directions..... It's hard to find a job you know, and you'll have to study it for a few years, before it gets any fun...." and so on and so forth.  Way to suck all the joy out of a room.  Gee, thanks.

You see, my almost-18 yo kid had pretty much that conversation recently with the parent of a friend.  Then he related it to me, and I could. just. SCREAM. 

I mean, really, a kid tells you what his current plans and hopes are, and you say things like "well, it's hard, and no fun, and you'll have to work really hard."  What the what?? 

First, my kid knows sometimes things are hard.  This is the same kid who devoted HUNDREDS of hours to advancing his favorite characters in World of Warcraft and other online or video games. It was hard work, lots of disappointment, doing things he didn't like, getting his virtual butt kicked over and over.  Along the way, he learned persistence, made friends, learned how the world of that game worked, did favors for others, took on responsibility for game duties, learned to mediate arguments between friends and fellow players, made I don't know how many re-starts, and still he's always willing to go through all that again, just to help a friend reach his or her own goals in the game. But, sure, discount all that because it happened in a video game, and was 'just for fun'.  

He also makes some stunningly amazing original creations using Legos and Bionicles.  After he meticulously follows all the instructions to build the set, he tears it all apart, and just as meticulously, using models he sees in his head, in beautiful detailed symmetry, creates the most amazing models.  Again, hours and hours of detailed work, driven by a picture in his mind.  This kid works hard and pays great attention to detail.

Second -- or maybe first, I don't which offended me or my kid more deeply -- my kid is not an idiot, nor is he lazy, and for the record, he is unbelievably self-disciplined.  He sets goals, makes his own schedule, and he gets stuff done.  He's also helpful, kind, and never rains on anyone else's parade. You will not find find ANYWHERE a more helpful, patient, tenacious helper in anything you set out to do than to ask my kid to help you.  

But really, why do adults feel the need to patronize kids, to point out the flaws and hard parts of their dreams, or even just their tentative steps into new adventures?  Do they think kids are clueless about how life works?  Do they really think it's encouraging to have your plans met only with reminders that you're young, naive, and inexperienced?  Do they imagine it's helpful to only offer up discouragement and doubt?  

Or maybe they just forgot what it's like to have a whole life ahead of you, a wide-open world, one you know is mostly equal parts hard and easy, mean and kind, scary and comfortable?

Instead, can we offer encouragement, excitement, enthusiasm?  

Lucky for us, my kid has one amazing adult friend who offers that perfect mix of encouragement, excitement, and enthusiasm - and he stays true to the fact that sometimes things are harder than they look, by sharing his own stories.  As a bonus, he brings all sorts of awesomeness into my family's life, and reminds my kid regularly just how awesome he is.  My kid also has friends, both adult and teenaged, who share his excitement in the world.  

I have to say, tho, the parade-pissers make it hard.

On Shaming Our Kids

Yesterday, a meme came across my facebook feed.  I won't share it here, because I don't want so participate in the shaming it imparted. It was yet another instance of a parent punishing a child by making them hold up a sign on which was written (presumably in the child's own hand) the child's offenses and that the child was being forced to sell an ipod so the proceeds could be donated to a charity for the prevention of bullying.

The friend who posted the meme thought it was fitting punishment.  Usually, I just hide those postings in my feed; recently I've begun hiding the person who posted them from my feed.  This friend, tho, is special. She's my favorite cousin.  She's much younger, only a few months older than my firstborn. She doesn't have any children of her own, and she grew up in a home where shaming and punishment were the preferred parenting method.  I know some of her stories; I felt compelled to say something.  Something positive and helpful, and to speak out against the damage I know shame does, especially to children.

I commented that I don't believe punishment is the best way to parent. I'm pretty sure this was no surprise to my cousin; she knows I'm not the kind of mother we had (our moms are sisters). 

If a parent feels some sort of penalty is really needed -- and really I just can't justify it -- then please, not shaming.  It may feel very gratifying -- in the moment, and in light of our culture's current rush to punish and shame seemingly for every misstep -- to be able to tell people you made your child sell their important-to-them item and give the proceeds to the charity.  It may even help to alleviate your own embarrassment and shame about your child's choices and actions. But will it really stop a child from bullying? Probably not. It will stop them from getting caught. It will push their behavior underground, or maybe delay it until they become an adult and can bully others without being punished by their parents. Until someday they are parents, and the handiest tool in their parenting toolbox is to shame your dear, sweet grandchild.

As expected (really, if no one replies, I'd have to wonder if my words made a difference) I was asked what I would do if my child bullied others, given my opinions on punishing children.  I replied that shaming people -- even people who have bullied others -- is bullying. It's no better than hitting your child as punishment for hitting other children. I'd have to ask my child and myself why my child did what he did. Why is he so unhappy with himself that being mean to others was even a choice he'd make. I'd ask my child what he was thinking, why he said what he did, how he thinks the other person feels. We'd talk about ways to make this better, to genuinely apologize to the people he'd hurt, and how to move forward.  How to be the loving person I know he wants to be; the loving person we all really want to be.
 
But before children become teenagers so unhappy they hurt others as a way to feel more secure about themselves, or as a way of lashing out and spreading their own pain around, there are better ways than shame and punishment.  Instead, we can use kindness. We can be truly present, gently helping our children navigate the world of friends and peers in kind ways, paying attention to the smaller details of smaller people learning to find their way in a big world. 

As parents, we've made it a conscious way of life to be kind -- to our children, to each other, to people our children see us interact with; to be always present and helping our children find positive ways to meet their needs.  Shaming isn't kind.
I admit it wasn't easy finding better ways to respond to my children.  I  grew up in home where shame, punishment, demands for obedience, were the order of the day.  We were publicly shamed, hit, grounded, had our personal belonging taken away from, even destroyed before our eyes.  All in the name of making us better people.  While I hope I'm a better person, a better mother, wife, and friend, I know that's not the result of the treatment I received as a child.  I'm the person I am despite the shame, punishment, and mistreatment I survived.

When I became a Mom, I was 22, badly married, and very unhappy. I was overwhelmed and didn't have any good tools to raise a child.  I had been given a toolbox filled with hammers made of anger, embarassment, and control -- desperate tools not fit for any task as awesome as raising people.  I made some missteps, and wasn't always as kind as I aspired to be, as kind as I hope I've become in my more recent years as a Mom.

I found my way because what I knew what had been done to me wasn't right. Society, tho, is full of voices telling me those tools that felt wrong were essential; that it's necessary to respond strongly to our children, and to ignore their feelings (and often our own) telling us that we're being unkind. That means I'm called to be a voice calling for kindness, a voice exposing the damage shame and punishment do to our children, and to society as a whole.

In my experience (I've been at this Mom gig for 29 years now) children do what they see others do. A child who bullies and is mean to others has been on the receiving end of meanness and maybe abuse. At a minimum, he has parents who turn a blind eye to younger missteps with friends and playmates, a parent who for whatever reason doesn't give helpful and kind advice, or maybe who gives no help at all, when the child is young and still learning the most basic social behaviors.  Often, parents don't know how else to respond to their child; they have a parenting toolbox full of hammers and shame; they feel compelled to come up with a visible quick solution so they feel less embarrassed in front of the other parents.
 

Parents who shame or punish children have children who have been on the receiving end of shame and humiliation. The children have seen firsthand that shaming or embarrassing or excluding someone has an effect - it freezes them out, shuts them up, makes them go away, and stop seeking your attention. They've seen it's a very effective tool for exerting one's power and perceived superiority over people. Or they've been mocked, insulted, denigrated and learned that it's okay to do the same to other people. Shaming and humiliating people who bully others only perpetuates the meanness. It's the authority figures becoming bullies. 

We can do better. We have to do better -- our children are counting on us.