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.
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.
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