A couple of days ago, Andy shared with me a conversation he'd had with a friend of mine, a fellow unschooling Mom, tho not a radical unschooler. The conversation began with her advancing her belief that it's human nature to value what we earn more than we value what is given to us or falls into our laps. Her strongly held theory is that kids who are given 'everything' -- a too big allowance, their own car, expensive toys, etc -- won't value them as much as things they buy with money they earned; that making a child earn his money teaches them that we all have to work for what we want in life.
She and I had recently had a conversation -- okay a debate -- on the same topic. She was concerned that Andy talks in terms of how he'd spend lots of money if he won the lottery, for example. Her concern is that Andy (almost 14) doesn't appreciate that he will someday need to work for money to buy things, and that he needs to understand that and plan for a future. She shared her concerns, opening with "I know this is an unschooling thing, to let kids have whatever they want....." I told her that, in fact, Andy does know most people work for a living, and that he has plans for a job someday. But, really, isn't it much more fun to dream about what we'd do with several million dollars? Who among hasn't indulged in such a flight of fancy?
I didn't give the topic much more thought until Andy's comments to me and Gary a couple of days ago. In talking with him, I realized just how strongly I disagree with her notions, how injurious I think they can be to our children.
First, is it really true that everyone values things earned more than gifts? I know in my life, that's not true. Many times in my life, I have benefited from the generosity of others, and I am so grateful to be the recipient of such expressions of love. I've also been in the position of giving -- money, things, my time -- to others, simply because I wanted to make their life bigger and brighter, to help in a time of need, or just to say I love you.
I recognize that accepting a gift graciously -- and gratefully -- can be an equal expression of love back to the giver. When we are grateful, and aware of how loved we are, it's only natural to enjoy and take care of what we've received.
I told Andy I disagree with my friend. Gary chimed in agreeing with me, and we talked about our thoughts on experiences with gifts. We're very fortunate, in that Gary's parents have always been very generous with us. They've flown us to Hawaii for visits, helped us buy a used car a few years (a totally unexpected gift, at a wonderful time), provide college funds for Will to attend community college, even buying his books. Gary's Mom flew out to care for our family 9 years ago when I was on bed rest, while expecting Dan, spending two months over Christmas and New Year's away from her home and husband. In large part, they are able to be so generous because Gary is an only child. Really, tho, they are such generous people that if they had more children, they'd simply find a way to give even more. Happily for me, Gary is every bit as generous and thoughtful as his father. We've also watched our boys become very generous people.
I explained to Andy that it's a common belief in our culture that kids 'need to learn to earn what they want.' I went on to say that really, if we can give our children what they want, and choose to withhold something to 'teach them a lesson' the only sure thing we teach them is that we're not very generous people!
In my childhood, I often heard the same tired opinion -- that we value what we earn. I was also criticized for not being grateful enough, for not being as careful in taking care of gifts as my mother thought was appropriate. We weren't given an allowance, or even the opportunity to earn one. Chores were simply expected us as members of the family, and not rewarded in any way for completing them. Instead, she would give us money to go to the movies, etc, when we asked only if she felt we'd been 'good enough' to deserve it. What I learned from her method was to resent that I had to be 'good enough' to have my desires fulfilled. We all learned, to varying degrees, that we weren't 'good enough' to be entitled to money. It's a lesson I spent many years unlearning, sometimes very expensively.
Resentment is another lesson resulting from telling our kids they will only value what they earn. The reality is that, no matter how much money or how many things we have, we'll always see or know others who have more. Often, what others have appears to have come to them in ways that don't look like much work to us. It's easy to resent that others have more than we have, that their lives look easier and more bountiful. When I was young, and for some years into adulthood, I saw people whose lives looked more abundant than mine, people who had the things I lacked. Thanks to my mother and her practice of determining whether or not we'd been 'good enough' to share in her money, I took my own lack to mean I wasn't worthy of having my desires fulfilled, or even having my needs met. I don't want to repeat that lesson with my own children. They are so worthy -- we all are!
I don't give to my children conditionally, thinking I'll only continue giving if they take proper care of my gifts. I give to them as much as I can, simply because I love them, and I know what I'm giving will bring them joy -- and I want them to be joy-filled.
Another point, as I thought it on more deeply, both during our talk with Andy and later talking with Gary about it, is that parents who forward this opinion malpractice their children. We all know kids often do and become what we expect of them. It's the best argument for saying "walk!" instead of "don't run!" After all, if Mom felt a need to say "don't...." then she must believe the child was going to do what she just prohibited. By saying to children "we only care for what we earn" what we're really doing is giving them license to devalue gifts, both received and given. We're saying we expect them to be careless with the things we give them. We're telling them that the only way to receive any good in life is to earn it. Those aren't the lessons I hope to give my children.
I want my children to be both generous and grateful, to recognize and honor the inherent worth of everyone they know and love. To care for and enjoy what comes into their lives, whether they earned it or someone else gave it to them. To be cheerful givers and cheerful recipients. I want them to know that sometimes the best expression of love we can give someone is to let them help love, honor and celebrate us by accepting their gift.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Living My Joy Out Loud
The recent newscasts on Radical Unschooling, and subsequent online and in person conversations with other unschoolers, have spurred an epiphany for me.
Not about unschooling specifically. I'm already decided and happily so on that point. We are definitely whole life unschoolers. My aha moment is about living my joy, sharing it with others, not to convince them of its rightness, but simply because I want my joy to be completely savored, to infuse my every moment. Not only can JOY and fear not co-exist, joy can't even fully co-exist with reluctance or when hidden.
For much of my life, I've hidden my joy from my own family of origin (sometimes going to great lengths), and of course, from most other people, too. The notable exception is that I never hide my joy from Gary or our children, because I know they completely 'get' me, and won't laugh at what makes me feel joyous.
Growing up, I quickly realized that what I celebrate as joy and wonder, others viewed as naivete, irresponsibility, idealism. I was dismissed and mocked for my joy. I was told I was mistaken, that really what I celebrated wasn't worthy of celebration; that I should aspire to more 'important' things than just happiness.
So, I learned to hide my joy from them, as a way to protect it, to keep my own soul safe. Those experiences left me reluctant to show my joy to anyone, lest they use it to criticize and wound me. I also resented feeling like I had to explain or defend my joy to anyone, especially those who purported to love me. Soon, I was hiding my joy from teachers, all adults, school friends (I wouldn't want my fanciful ideas to cause them to dislike me), and sometimes even myself. I was afraid to be joyful because it was one more thing 'they' could take from me. Experience tells me that first they'll do their best to sully my joy, to shame me into letting go of it, and if that doesn't work they'll try to deny me it outright.
And while I know, in the depths of my soul, that my joy is real -- that no one can take it from me -- I still tend to hide it. It's an old habit. For years, I was afraid they were right -- that I wasn't worthy of real joy. That no one is, because joy and happiness are the panacea of the ignorant. Today, when I hide my joy, I tell myself it's because the naysayers aren't worth my time and energy, and I can quietly go about my life, keeping my joy hidden in the shadows. Really, tho, it's because I don't want to feel like I have to fight for my right to live joyously. The truth is I DON'T HAVE TO! How cool is that?! And how freeing!
I don't really fear 'them' now, but still I let my old habits of hiding hold me back. I walk around expecting a fight, expecting to be told I'm wrong, that the world isn't the way I want it to be, the way I know it can be. That tendency to hide my joy dampens my active enjoyment, tho.
I see now that what I need for my joy to be truly full is to live that joy out loud. Not with a sense of belligerence that I don't care what others think, but with a full embracing that joy exists, in me, around me, simply because joy IS. And because hidden joy cheats me and those I love. Joy is meant to shared and lived out loud.
Not about unschooling specifically. I'm already decided and happily so on that point. We are definitely whole life unschoolers. My aha moment is about living my joy, sharing it with others, not to convince them of its rightness, but simply because I want my joy to be completely savored, to infuse my every moment. Not only can JOY and fear not co-exist, joy can't even fully co-exist with reluctance or when hidden.
For much of my life, I've hidden my joy from my own family of origin (sometimes going to great lengths), and of course, from most other people, too. The notable exception is that I never hide my joy from Gary or our children, because I know they completely 'get' me, and won't laugh at what makes me feel joyous.
Growing up, I quickly realized that what I celebrate as joy and wonder, others viewed as naivete, irresponsibility, idealism. I was dismissed and mocked for my joy. I was told I was mistaken, that really what I celebrated wasn't worthy of celebration; that I should aspire to more 'important' things than just happiness.
So, I learned to hide my joy from them, as a way to protect it, to keep my own soul safe. Those experiences left me reluctant to show my joy to anyone, lest they use it to criticize and wound me. I also resented feeling like I had to explain or defend my joy to anyone, especially those who purported to love me. Soon, I was hiding my joy from teachers, all adults, school friends (I wouldn't want my fanciful ideas to cause them to dislike me), and sometimes even myself. I was afraid to be joyful because it was one more thing 'they' could take from me. Experience tells me that first they'll do their best to sully my joy, to shame me into letting go of it, and if that doesn't work they'll try to deny me it outright.
And while I know, in the depths of my soul, that my joy is real -- that no one can take it from me -- I still tend to hide it. It's an old habit. For years, I was afraid they were right -- that I wasn't worthy of real joy. That no one is, because joy and happiness are the panacea of the ignorant. Today, when I hide my joy, I tell myself it's because the naysayers aren't worth my time and energy, and I can quietly go about my life, keeping my joy hidden in the shadows. Really, tho, it's because I don't want to feel like I have to fight for my right to live joyously. The truth is I DON'T HAVE TO! How cool is that?! And how freeing!
I don't really fear 'them' now, but still I let my old habits of hiding hold me back. I walk around expecting a fight, expecting to be told I'm wrong, that the world isn't the way I want it to be, the way I know it can be. That tendency to hide my joy dampens my active enjoyment, tho.
I see now that what I need for my joy to be truly full is to live that joy out loud. Not with a sense of belligerence that I don't care what others think, but with a full embracing that joy exists, in me, around me, simply because joy IS. And because hidden joy cheats me and those I love. Joy is meant to shared and lived out loud.
Monday, February 1, 2010
on unconditional love
Recently, the idea of unconditional love has been put forth as an essential part of radical unschooling and parenting. I've been back and forth on the topic myself. While the idea of being loved for exactly who I am sounds very good and comforting, I'm not sure what that really means. We all want to be loved, and we want to be loved and valued for who we are. But what does that really mean?
In the past several months, I've seen five couples decide to separate or end their marriages. In my relatively small social circle, five is a big number. In the context of that, and thinking about my experience with divorce -- my own and my parents' divorces -- I've given a lot of thought to what people mean when they talk about unconditional love. Could unconditional love save/redeem those marriages? What part does it play in my own marriage?
My first thought is "what is unconditional love?"
Does unconditional love mean loving me even with graying hair, 50lbs overweight, sometimes grumpy and impatient and tired, being patient with me and kind to me when I'm sick? Does it mean appreciating my individual interests, strengths and passions, and loving me for who I uniquely am? I have to say that sounds pretty good!
Does it also mean loving -- and staying with -- a partner who is being dishonest, or unfaithful, or physically abusive, or who gambles away the paycheck? If not, what does unconditional love mean in those circumstances?
Today's thoughts on unconditional love started with this quotation posted to a friend's facebook statue:
"I Love You' has very little meaning if 'I Love Me' is not anchored and integrated first." Jim Self
I replied:
I could argue that one. I agree that loving myself is important, but I have found that it is possible to really love other people without fully loving yourself first. It's what saved my life 25 yrs ago when I loved my child so much more than I loved myself. And it wasn't the only time I learned that lesson, tho each time I come closer to really loving myself as much as I'm blessed to be loved by others.
More back and forth followed, and the idea of unconditional love was added to the mix. I could feel a blog post coming on as I posted a reply much too long for someone else's status update. That left me feeling like I would really enjoy exploring the whole idea, so I've expanded on my answer here.
I'm not really a proponent of unconditional love for adults, even myself. I feel that I love my children unconditionally, but even then I wonder if it's more a conviction within me that my children simply aren't capable of doing anything that would result in me not loving them. What I mean by that is, there are definitely actions that could cause me to stop loving a person, I just believe my children are emotionally healthy enough to choose not to do those things.
And if they did those things, I'd have to wonder where I failed them as a Mom.
In the past several months, I've seen five couples decide to separate or end their marriages. In my relatively small social circle, five is a big number. In the context of that, and thinking about my experience with divorce -- my own and my parents' divorces -- I've given a lot of thought to what people mean when they talk about unconditional love. Could unconditional love save/redeem those marriages? What part does it play in my own marriage?
My first thought is "what is unconditional love?"
Does unconditional love mean loving me even with graying hair, 50lbs overweight, sometimes grumpy and impatient and tired, being patient with me and kind to me when I'm sick? Does it mean appreciating my individual interests, strengths and passions, and loving me for who I uniquely am? I have to say that sounds pretty good!
Does it also mean loving -- and staying with -- a partner who is being dishonest, or unfaithful, or physically abusive, or who gambles away the paycheck? If not, what does unconditional love mean in those circumstances?
Today's thoughts on unconditional love started with this quotation posted to a friend's facebook statue:
"I Love You' has very little meaning if 'I Love Me' is not anchored and integrated first." Jim Self
I replied:
I could argue that one. I agree that loving myself is important, but I have found that it is possible to really love other people without fully loving yourself first. It's what saved my life 25 yrs ago when I loved my child so much more than I loved myself. And it wasn't the only time I learned that lesson, tho each time I come closer to really loving myself as much as I'm blessed to be loved by others.
More back and forth followed, and the idea of unconditional love was added to the mix. I could feel a blog post coming on as I posted a reply much too long for someone else's status update. That left me feeling like I would really enjoy exploring the whole idea, so I've expanded on my answer here.
I'm not really a proponent of unconditional love for adults, even myself. I feel that I love my children unconditionally, but even then I wonder if it's more a conviction within me that my children simply aren't capable of doing anything that would result in me not loving them. What I mean by that is, there are definitely actions that could cause me to stop loving a person, I just believe my children are emotionally healthy enough to choose not to do those things.
And if they did those things, I'd have to wonder where I failed them as a Mom.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Expectations and Authenticity
Yesterday, again over at Facebook, I responded to a status update about not having any expectations who our children will "turn out" to be. I said that I don't think expectations are necessarily all bad, that I do have expectations for my kids.
In the course of that conversation, I looked up the word expectation and found that it doesn't fully capture what I meant to say. I think it's become another catchword that people use when they really mean something else -- something like rules or requirements or enforcements, because "expectations" sounds nicer and makes us feel like we're being respectful.
The original poster said she's ready for "some new radical unschooling catch words...with their true meanings applied." My response to was that I'm so over catchwords, because they quickly get re-defined for individual purposes. It occurs to me that a more honest word for me that maybe "standards" is a better word than expectations in this instance. There are standards I choose to ask my children to meet. I don't feel it's wrong for me to hold my children to my standards for behavior and they way I'd like to see them treat each other. I also choose to point out to them behaviors I consider important in how they treat their friends. I regularly share with them my own observations about how I see the children we know treat each other, and I tell them I feel it's important for them to speak out when they see any person mistreat another. Standing by quietly makes us complicit, and sometimes that complicity costs us friendships.
I will be honest about this. Sometimes I am coercive, and we do have standards for behavior in our home, which sometimes are enforced by the adults who can see a much bigger picture than the kids see in this moment. And I'm okay with that.
I've heard a lot of talk about authenticity lately (another of those catchwords come back to bite us in the ass). I've seen parents stand by quietly, giving no input, while children are unkind to other people (kids and adults), while they damage or destroy property. Often, these parents defend their own non-involvement as respecting their child's authenticity, or as letting them learn from life.
Is it more valuable for me as a parent to respect what may be my child's authentic desire in each moment, with no regard for the long-term effects, or to intervene in the hopes of averting damaging long-term effects? Has authentic become just another mutating catchword in the semantics game?
Sometimes our kids do things that Gary & I sincerely believe aren't in their best interest, things that aren't going to help them in their path to becoming the people they want to be. Is quietly standing by when a child threaten to breaks a game/toy that is important to him (or expensive to replace) because, in this moment, he authentically feels angry really a loving choice for me to make? I don't think so. I'm going to point out to him that if he breaks that now, he'll likely miss it later when he's not angry. I may even take the item away from him to prevent him from doing something I know he will regret.
What if he authentically feels he'd like to punch his brother? What if he feels really justified, and if even I can see his brother "has it coming"? Is it okay for me to let the angry, perhaps wronged child, do whatever he *authentically* feels like doing? No, I can't do that, because everyone who lives in our home has a right to safety. Equally important, I know my child doesn't really want to be the one who hurts other people. At his core, he's kind and loving, but just doesn't always have the tools to take the high road. He needs someone to remind him of who he is, of who he wants to be.
That's not true just for children either. Sometimes, I react badly to something someone's done that hurts or angers me, and I'm grateful for the times Gary, a friend, or even my own children, remind me of what I hold dear, and the qualities I really want to express; of who I really want to be -- and who I don't want to be, because those lessons can take 47 years (or maybe even 77 years) to remember in the tough moments.
Sometimes, too, our children do things that cost a much higher price than they can comprehend at their ages. Things said to another child, a friend, that are deeply hurtful and simply can't be unsaid, no matter how many times one apologizes. Friendships can be lost completely in those moments. Unhealthy patterns of behavior can be learned on both sides. If no one points out the damage done, unkind, hurtful or unsafe, may be the way others come to see a person. It can be hard to undo that damage, both to other and to ones' self-image. Children seldom understand the real damage words can do. For that matter, many adults seem ignorant of the damage words do, the damage intolerance and unkindness does to a person's heart and mind.
If I can help my children avoid hurting other people, and by extension, themselves, it would be unloving for me to stand by and "let them figure it out on their own". For me to neglect to share my perspective and experience with my children and call it respectful parenting just isn't something I can lovingly do.
In the course of that conversation, I looked up the word expectation and found that it doesn't fully capture what I meant to say. I think it's become another catchword that people use when they really mean something else -- something like rules or requirements or enforcements, because "expectations" sounds nicer and makes us feel like we're being respectful.
The original poster said she's ready for "some new radical unschooling catch words...with their true meanings applied." My response to was that I'm so over catchwords, because they quickly get re-defined for individual purposes. It occurs to me that a more honest word for me that maybe "standards" is a better word than expectations in this instance. There are standards I choose to ask my children to meet. I don't feel it's wrong for me to hold my children to my standards for behavior and they way I'd like to see them treat each other. I also choose to point out to them behaviors I consider important in how they treat their friends. I regularly share with them my own observations about how I see the children we know treat each other, and I tell them I feel it's important for them to speak out when they see any person mistreat another. Standing by quietly makes us complicit, and sometimes that complicity costs us friendships.
I will be honest about this. Sometimes I am coercive, and we do have standards for behavior in our home, which sometimes are enforced by the adults who can see a much bigger picture than the kids see in this moment. And I'm okay with that.
I've heard a lot of talk about authenticity lately (another of those catchwords come back to bite us in the ass). I've seen parents stand by quietly, giving no input, while children are unkind to other people (kids and adults), while they damage or destroy property. Often, these parents defend their own non-involvement as respecting their child's authenticity, or as letting them learn from life.
Is it more valuable for me as a parent to respect what may be my child's authentic desire in each moment, with no regard for the long-term effects, or to intervene in the hopes of averting damaging long-term effects? Has authentic become just another mutating catchword in the semantics game?
Sometimes our kids do things that Gary & I sincerely believe aren't in their best interest, things that aren't going to help them in their path to becoming the people they want to be. Is quietly standing by when a child threaten to breaks a game/toy that is important to him (or expensive to replace) because, in this moment, he authentically feels angry really a loving choice for me to make? I don't think so. I'm going to point out to him that if he breaks that now, he'll likely miss it later when he's not angry. I may even take the item away from him to prevent him from doing something I know he will regret.
What if he authentically feels he'd like to punch his brother? What if he feels really justified, and if even I can see his brother "has it coming"? Is it okay for me to let the angry, perhaps wronged child, do whatever he *authentically* feels like doing? No, I can't do that, because everyone who lives in our home has a right to safety. Equally important, I know my child doesn't really want to be the one who hurts other people. At his core, he's kind and loving, but just doesn't always have the tools to take the high road. He needs someone to remind him of who he is, of who he wants to be.
That's not true just for children either. Sometimes, I react badly to something someone's done that hurts or angers me, and I'm grateful for the times Gary, a friend, or even my own children, remind me of what I hold dear, and the qualities I really want to express; of who I really want to be -- and who I don't want to be, because those lessons can take 47 years (or maybe even 77 years) to remember in the tough moments.
Sometimes, too, our children do things that cost a much higher price than they can comprehend at their ages. Things said to another child, a friend, that are deeply hurtful and simply can't be unsaid, no matter how many times one apologizes. Friendships can be lost completely in those moments. Unhealthy patterns of behavior can be learned on both sides. If no one points out the damage done, unkind, hurtful or unsafe, may be the way others come to see a person. It can be hard to undo that damage, both to other and to ones' self-image. Children seldom understand the real damage words can do. For that matter, many adults seem ignorant of the damage words do, the damage intolerance and unkindness does to a person's heart and mind.
If I can help my children avoid hurting other people, and by extension, themselves, it would be unloving for me to stand by and "let them figure it out on their own". For me to neglect to share my perspective and experience with my children and call it respectful parenting just isn't something I can lovingly do.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Simplicity Parenting -- Updated
After I wrote this blog post last week, a friend who hadn't read the Facebook discussion (she's not online) brought me a copy of the Time magazine with the article about Over-Parenting. I told her some of what had been discussed on Facebook about the article, and that I was bothered to see unschoolers defending 'benign neglect' as being part of unschooling.
My friend made a good point that for the target audience of the Time article -- mainstream parents who tend to over-schedule their kids and overwhelm them with expectations of what they *must do* to be a success in life -- neglecting their kids likely would be an improvement over the madness of having 'helicopter' parents. I agree that it's counter-productive to schedule and control every moment, or even most moments, of a child's life, but I simply don't like the word neglect, even benign.
======
In the past couple of weeks, I've seen unschoolers cite news reports of what's being called a new movement in parenting -- Simplicity Parenting or Slow Parenting. Some are hailing it as a good move, something that may bring families closer to unschooling or peaceful parenting. I've read several links and I'm not convinced it's a good move in and of itself.
Yes, it's a move away from over-scheduled, over-stressed kids who appear to exist simply as vicarious vessels for their parents, but it looks a lot like just the other end of the pendulum swing.
The latest article, at time.com The Backlash Against Overparenting is the one I read this morning. A couple of folks have posted links on their Facebook walls saying *I love this!*
I followed the link to read it, and I'm not loving it. Yes, the stories shared show some kids are being allowed to step off the achievement junkie train, but at the same time parents are still being encouraged to do things that diminish kids as people.
There were lots of parts in that article I didn't love. This part, for example, is just so disrespectful of children:
*Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting, teaches seminars on how to peel back the layers of cultural pressure that weigh down families. He and his coaches will even go into your home, weed out your kids' stuff, sort out their schedule, turn off the screens and help your family find space you didn't know you had, like a master closet re-organizer for the soul.*
How many kids are going to be happy, or feel loved and respected when Mom/Dad bring in a stranger (or do it themselves) to *weed out the kids stuff*? Would the same parents want their kids to take it upon themselves to weed out Mom's closet, or get rid of Dad's computer? I doubt it.
It may be a positive move away from over-scheduling and over-controlling kids, but it doesn't appear to be any more respectful of kids as people. Looks to me like the other end of the pendulum swing from over-parenting.
It was pointed out to me that integral to Simplicity Parenting is letting go of fear as parents. That's a good thing. Every day, we're told what we should fear for our children -- whether your child will fall behind, or miss some essential experience, or never get into the *right* college, that they'll never be happy or successful, that danger lurks around every corner. The media in general seem to exist for the express purpose of elevating our fear level.
I don't know what Slow Parenting is all about (tho it makes me chuckle and I instantly thought of a TV show title I saw last week, "Pregnancy for Dummies". Maybe slow parents are what pregnant dummies become?).
My friend made a good point that for the target audience of the Time article -- mainstream parents who tend to over-schedule their kids and overwhelm them with expectations of what they *must do* to be a success in life -- neglecting their kids likely would be an improvement over the madness of having 'helicopter' parents. I agree that it's counter-productive to schedule and control every moment, or even most moments, of a child's life, but I simply don't like the word neglect, even benign.
======
In the past couple of weeks, I've seen unschoolers cite news reports of what's being called a new movement in parenting -- Simplicity Parenting or Slow Parenting. Some are hailing it as a good move, something that may bring families closer to unschooling or peaceful parenting. I've read several links and I'm not convinced it's a good move in and of itself.
Yes, it's a move away from over-scheduled, over-stressed kids who appear to exist simply as vicarious vessels for their parents, but it looks a lot like just the other end of the pendulum swing.
The latest article, at time.com The Backlash Against Overparenting is the one I read this morning. A couple of folks have posted links on their Facebook walls saying *I love this!*
I followed the link to read it, and I'm not loving it. Yes, the stories shared show some kids are being allowed to step off the achievement junkie train, but at the same time parents are still being encouraged to do things that diminish kids as people.
There were lots of parts in that article I didn't love. This part, for example, is just so disrespectful of children:
*Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting, teaches seminars on how to peel back the layers of cultural pressure that weigh down families. He and his coaches will even go into your home, weed out your kids' stuff, sort out their schedule, turn off the screens and help your family find space you didn't know you had, like a master closet re-organizer for the soul.*
How many kids are going to be happy, or feel loved and respected when Mom/Dad bring in a stranger (or do it themselves) to *weed out the kids stuff*? Would the same parents want their kids to take it upon themselves to weed out Mom's closet, or get rid of Dad's computer? I doubt it.
It may be a positive move away from over-scheduling and over-controlling kids, but it doesn't appear to be any more respectful of kids as people. Looks to me like the other end of the pendulum swing from over-parenting.
It was pointed out to me that integral to Simplicity Parenting is letting go of fear as parents. That's a good thing. Every day, we're told what we should fear for our children -- whether your child will fall behind, or miss some essential experience, or never get into the *right* college, that they'll never be happy or successful, that danger lurks around every corner. The media in general seem to exist for the express purpose of elevating our fear level.
I don't know what Slow Parenting is all about (tho it makes me chuckle and I instantly thought of a TV show title I saw last week, "Pregnancy for Dummies". Maybe slow parents are what pregnant dummies become?).
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Step parents
I've been pondering a lot lately on the idea of family in all its forms. Good or bad marriages, good or bad divorces, good remarriages -- all seem implicated in some way in folks' opinion of what best fosters unschooling and happy, well-adjusted children.
Earlier today, on Facebook, there was a post topic entitled *Tell Me About Your Fabulous Kids* which included the following question about Step-parenting:
Are any of your kids adopted/step/foster kids? Do you find it makes a difference?
I read this reply:
No. I had step parents. I think it makes a difference...for the worse for me, and others I know. Haven't seen a situation where it made a difference for the better yet. **
.... and want to share my story of a situation where a step parent did and does make a difference for the better.
Our oldest son, Will, was born during my first marriage, so he's my biological child and Gary's step-child. It's been so long (14 yrs) since Gary adopted Will, that we don't think in terms of step-child anymore.
My family lives a situation where having a step-parent has, and does, make a difference for the better. My ex has never had contact with my son. He couldn't be bothered to even send b'day cards, tho he always knew where we lived. Never called. Never visited. Only sent two child support checks in 9 years. He isn't Will's Dad -- Gary is.
Gary's presence in Will's life made it possible for him to leave school at 16 to homeschool, allows our family to unschool. It makes it possible for Will to afford college (Gary's Dad set up an education fund for the boys). Because I married Gary and Will has a stepfather, he also has very loving, generous grandparents who love him. He's closer to Gary's parents, than he is to my parents.
There is no way that staying my first marriage would have been good for Will, or me. He'd have been abused and frightened and manipulated by people with questionable motives. We both would have been.
There is also no way that remaining single and never remarrying -- avoiding the dreaded step-parent -- would have been a better situation for Will. It would have meant remaining the financially struggling only child of a single Mom, stuck in school, no money for college, no opportunity to have me at home in his teen years. It would have meant no Dad to love him, guide him, or care for his mom (me).
I cannot express the joy and wonder Will would have missed by never having younger siblings, or a huge loving extended family (dh's family). Just the opportunity to have a Dad in itself would have been denied my sweet boy!
I don't know, can't know, if Gary loves Will with the same depth he has for our two younger sons, his biological children. I do know that Gary loves Will more than Will's bio-dad (my ex-husband) ever did. I do know that Gary provides a better life for Will -- who's back home after losing his job last Dec, while going to college (a very generous gift from *step* grandparents) -- than I ever could have alone.
There are times when a step-parent does make a difference for the better. And I'm ever so grateful for that.
Earlier today, on Facebook, there was a post topic entitled *Tell Me About Your Fabulous Kids* which included the following question about Step-parenting:
Are any of your kids adopted/step/foster kids? Do you find it makes a difference?
I read this reply:
No. I had step parents. I think it makes a difference...for the worse for me, and others I know. Haven't seen a situation where it made a difference for the better yet. **
.... and want to share my story of a situation where a step parent did and does make a difference for the better.
Our oldest son, Will, was born during my first marriage, so he's my biological child and Gary's step-child. It's been so long (14 yrs) since Gary adopted Will, that we don't think in terms of step-child anymore.
My family lives a situation where having a step-parent has, and does, make a difference for the better. My ex has never had contact with my son. He couldn't be bothered to even send b'day cards, tho he always knew where we lived. Never called. Never visited. Only sent two child support checks in 9 years. He isn't Will's Dad -- Gary is.
Gary's presence in Will's life made it possible for him to leave school at 16 to homeschool, allows our family to unschool. It makes it possible for Will to afford college (Gary's Dad set up an education fund for the boys). Because I married Gary and Will has a stepfather, he also has very loving, generous grandparents who love him. He's closer to Gary's parents, than he is to my parents.
There is no way that staying my first marriage would have been good for Will, or me. He'd have been abused and frightened and manipulated by people with questionable motives. We both would have been.
There is also no way that remaining single and never remarrying -- avoiding the dreaded step-parent -- would have been a better situation for Will. It would have meant remaining the financially struggling only child of a single Mom, stuck in school, no money for college, no opportunity to have me at home in his teen years. It would have meant no Dad to love him, guide him, or care for his mom (me).
I cannot express the joy and wonder Will would have missed by never having younger siblings, or a huge loving extended family (dh's family). Just the opportunity to have a Dad in itself would have been denied my sweet boy!
I don't know, can't know, if Gary loves Will with the same depth he has for our two younger sons, his biological children. I do know that Gary loves Will more than Will's bio-dad (my ex-husband) ever did. I do know that Gary provides a better life for Will -- who's back home after losing his job last Dec, while going to college (a very generous gift from *step* grandparents) -- than I ever could have alone.
There are times when a step-parent does make a difference for the better. And I'm ever so grateful for that.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
to label or not to label
Earlier today, I joined a discussion of *unschooling special needs kids* over at the Radical Unschooling forum.
I think many people find homeschooling or unschooling because their child doesn't fit into society's box, but I'm not convinced that labeling is helpful for every child who doesn't fit into that box. It's really a very small box.
In my experience, once you go through the diagnostic process with your child, whether you're given a label or rule labels out, the questions only grow. If a label *fits* your child, then what do you do next? Do you try to fix your child, to make him normal? Which method, drug, or treatment plan will achieve the goal of normal? Or, do you embrace his differences and find ways to support who he is, moment by moment?
Sometimes parents ask if the labels -- medical or behavioral -- mean their child can't unschool. They are afraid to fully trust their child to learn without some kind of imposed structure. Sometimes they have several children and worry that the special needs child should be treated differently. Really, all children should be treated differently, uniquely, because each child is unique.
Even without labels, I find myself doing different things with each of my 3 kids, because they're very different people, and their needs from me vary. My needs in my relationship with them vary, and each situation calls for an individual response. I'm very aware that Will's Mama is not exactly the same as Andy's Mom or Dan's Mom -- but I do my best to be the best mom to each of our boys. Really, they don't need the same Mom. Each boy needs his Mom to be respond to him in the way that best supports him.
I agree that there can be times when a child's particular needs result in different responses to situations. Knowing my child will be who he is for much longer than the time he'll spend living in my home, I'm committed to finding ways he can get his needs met, so that when I'm not there to tell him what I think he needs to do, he'll be able to figure it out for himself.
In recent years, the numbers of kids with spectrum qualities has sky-rocketed. I think that is in large part due to a narrowing of the definition of *normal* for people. There have always been people who don't fit the average expectations for a population at large. Looking back into my own family, from stories I heard over the years, I can pick out the *odd* ones. The uncle who never married, and lived in a travel trailer in the family's backyard; the aunt who re-defined *eccentric cat lady* are only two.
If the online screening tests I've seen are any indication, I fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. The difference is that 40 years ago it was perfectly okay if a smart girl was shy, and read lots of books, and was a little different. Really, we're an odd bunch overall, so it should surprise me that medical science has now found a label for several of us? Not a bit!
Andy, our intense, sweet, generous, amazingly funny, and very unique son, has had some challenging times this year. I've heard -- and well remember -- that being 13 is like that. For me, it was the transitional nature of the teen years. I'm really no good at transitions. I fight change tooth and nail. I like things just. the. way. they. are, thankyouverymuch. Even when things are not easy, I like predictability. Andy's like that, too, so the seemingly never-ending change of the past year has been a bear. Not always our wondrous Andy-bear, more like a raging, hungry bear. It's been rough not just for Andy, but for those of us who love him, too.
Truth be told, the past several months have been challenging on so many levels for our family. Andy's just our second-most reliable bellwether, after me. That's because we're both just big empathic sponges, and incredibly intense. I'm just more experienced at managing the onslaught. It gets easier after 4 decades or so.
We recently considered having Andy diagnosed. I talked it over with him, asking whether he thought it would be helpful to have a label that might give us some new tools for coping. I was feeling very out of tools, and at a loss for how to help him with some issues. Some years ago, in talking about school and Will's time there, I had mentioned to Andy that the kind of different he is, they have names for. Andy knows he's not like most people, and having carried that around most of my life, I see no reason to avoid talking about differences. For us, they're just a part of life, of who we are.
Andy and I discussed the possibilities with his regular doctor. It was a difficult conversation, in part because we explored just how unhappy Andy has been, which had me in tears. It was helpful, tho, in that I heard things from Andy that he'd been keeping from me because he didn't want to add to my burden, or to Will's burden. He was willing to hack his way through the jungle alone, but it was just becoming too much.
We got a referral, thought about it for a few more days, called to set up an appointment, and never heard back from the doc. In the meantime, there were more conversations, where I found out more of what was going on inside his thoughts and heart. This lead to brainstorming solutions. I think it also helped relieve Andy's feelings that he's alone in this. A common thread for Andy is he worries that if he asks me for help, he'll never figure out how to solve problems on his own, so he tries to get by without help.
Along the way, I looked more into myself and gained some insights -- some easy to follow, some less easy to explore and sit with. With those insights and a move to find strategies to help me be more present, more aware of our needs, solutions have come to light.
Today I'm feeling it's good we didn't get to actually talk to the referral doc. We've found new tools and insights on our own, and I'm confident that, right now, a label wouldn't really add anything helpful to our life. Andy was really back and forth about seeing another doctor. He'd have gone, but I don't really think his heart was in it. He's not interested in having a label, but would have let us get one if we thought it would help us.
Labels just aren't what we want in our lives right now. They're not likely to bring us more joy, which is what we want in our life right now.
I think many people find homeschooling or unschooling because their child doesn't fit into society's box, but I'm not convinced that labeling is helpful for every child who doesn't fit into that box. It's really a very small box.
In my experience, once you go through the diagnostic process with your child, whether you're given a label or rule labels out, the questions only grow. If a label *fits* your child, then what do you do next? Do you try to fix your child, to make him normal? Which method, drug, or treatment plan will achieve the goal of normal? Or, do you embrace his differences and find ways to support who he is, moment by moment?
Sometimes parents ask if the labels -- medical or behavioral -- mean their child can't unschool. They are afraid to fully trust their child to learn without some kind of imposed structure. Sometimes they have several children and worry that the special needs child should be treated differently. Really, all children should be treated differently, uniquely, because each child is unique.
Even without labels, I find myself doing different things with each of my 3 kids, because they're very different people, and their needs from me vary. My needs in my relationship with them vary, and each situation calls for an individual response. I'm very aware that Will's Mama is not exactly the same as Andy's Mom or Dan's Mom -- but I do my best to be the best mom to each of our boys. Really, they don't need the same Mom. Each boy needs his Mom to be respond to him in the way that best supports him.
I agree that there can be times when a child's particular needs result in different responses to situations. Knowing my child will be who he is for much longer than the time he'll spend living in my home, I'm committed to finding ways he can get his needs met, so that when I'm not there to tell him what I think he needs to do, he'll be able to figure it out for himself.
In recent years, the numbers of kids with spectrum qualities has sky-rocketed. I think that is in large part due to a narrowing of the definition of *normal* for people. There have always been people who don't fit the average expectations for a population at large. Looking back into my own family, from stories I heard over the years, I can pick out the *odd* ones. The uncle who never married, and lived in a travel trailer in the family's backyard; the aunt who re-defined *eccentric cat lady* are only two.
If the online screening tests I've seen are any indication, I fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. The difference is that 40 years ago it was perfectly okay if a smart girl was shy, and read lots of books, and was a little different. Really, we're an odd bunch overall, so it should surprise me that medical science has now found a label for several of us? Not a bit!
Andy, our intense, sweet, generous, amazingly funny, and very unique son, has had some challenging times this year. I've heard -- and well remember -- that being 13 is like that. For me, it was the transitional nature of the teen years. I'm really no good at transitions. I fight change tooth and nail. I like things just. the. way. they. are, thankyouverymuch. Even when things are not easy, I like predictability. Andy's like that, too, so the seemingly never-ending change of the past year has been a bear. Not always our wondrous Andy-bear, more like a raging, hungry bear. It's been rough not just for Andy, but for those of us who love him, too.
Truth be told, the past several months have been challenging on so many levels for our family. Andy's just our second-most reliable bellwether, after me. That's because we're both just big empathic sponges, and incredibly intense. I'm just more experienced at managing the onslaught. It gets easier after 4 decades or so.
We recently considered having Andy diagnosed. I talked it over with him, asking whether he thought it would be helpful to have a label that might give us some new tools for coping. I was feeling very out of tools, and at a loss for how to help him with some issues. Some years ago, in talking about school and Will's time there, I had mentioned to Andy that the kind of different he is, they have names for. Andy knows he's not like most people, and having carried that around most of my life, I see no reason to avoid talking about differences. For us, they're just a part of life, of who we are.
Andy and I discussed the possibilities with his regular doctor. It was a difficult conversation, in part because we explored just how unhappy Andy has been, which had me in tears. It was helpful, tho, in that I heard things from Andy that he'd been keeping from me because he didn't want to add to my burden, or to Will's burden. He was willing to hack his way through the jungle alone, but it was just becoming too much.
We got a referral, thought about it for a few more days, called to set up an appointment, and never heard back from the doc. In the meantime, there were more conversations, where I found out more of what was going on inside his thoughts and heart. This lead to brainstorming solutions. I think it also helped relieve Andy's feelings that he's alone in this. A common thread for Andy is he worries that if he asks me for help, he'll never figure out how to solve problems on his own, so he tries to get by without help.
Along the way, I looked more into myself and gained some insights -- some easy to follow, some less easy to explore and sit with. With those insights and a move to find strategies to help me be more present, more aware of our needs, solutions have come to light.
Today I'm feeling it's good we didn't get to actually talk to the referral doc. We've found new tools and insights on our own, and I'm confident that, right now, a label wouldn't really add anything helpful to our life. Andy was really back and forth about seeing another doctor. He'd have gone, but I don't really think his heart was in it. He's not interested in having a label, but would have let us get one if we thought it would help us.
Labels just aren't what we want in our lives right now. They're not likely to bring us more joy, which is what we want in our life right now.
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I find the idea of unconditional love is a very intriguing concept to explore, and I keep coming back to it. Gary and I have talked a lot about it. We agree that neither of us would want the other to love us unconditionally, as we define 'unconditional'. While we do want to be loved for who we innately are -- our passions and quirks and as we age -- we each also expect the other to call us on it when we're not being the person we'd like to be. I don't want to have to feel like I have to be perfect all the time, or like I can't be myself, but neither do I want to be allowed to regress to the point of unkindness or selfishness.
When I'm being impatient with the kids or just in a foul mood for some reason, I'm uncomfortable when Gary sometimes comes to my defense. Yes, I can see it means he loves me, but I expect him to call me to be a better person. When he doesn't do that, I'm horrified to see him defending me when I feel that what I've done is indefensible. That I've put him in the position of defending a temper tantrum on my part? Ick! That's not helpful and I do self-correct, because I want to be a kinder, more patient person. I Yes, I can make excuses for my behavior, but even better if he can point it out to me and stop me before I fall short.
As I continued to think about this, more specific thoughts followed.
What would this unconditional love I hear folks extolling really look like in day-to-day life? Would it mean staying with a partner who abused you, or slept around, or gambled away all the family's income? Really? Those are healthy things for our kids to learn, healthy examples for them to emulate?
If unconditional love means standing by a partner who mistreats you, then how does that demonstrate any bit of the self-love cited as a requirement for loving another person? If I love myself, aren't I worthy of being treated kindly? If I'm kind to my partner, why let him be unkind to me? Is it somehow wrong for me to say "I am valuable and deserve better treatment from you, and if you continue to mistreat me, I'm going to leave you?" Is it wrong for someone to say, "you've treated me badly, and honestly, I just don't love you anymore"?
More importantly to me, is this a standard of behavior I want to model for my children? Do I really want my son to believe it's okay for his wife to have multiple affairs while married to him? Would I want my daughter (if I had one) to continue loving a man who hit her, or her children? After all, wouldn't leaving be conditional love?
And do I really want to be loved unconditionally? I don't really think I'd be well-served by believing that I could treat Gary badly and expect that he'd still love me unconditionally.
The reality for me is that love is conditional. I fell in love with Gary because he was a good man, who was/is nice to me, and he's intelligent and funny and generous and patient. If he were brutish and stingy and impatient and abusive, I'd not have fallen in love with him.
I had a husband before Gary, who was immature and impatient and abusive and petty. I loved him, at a time when I definitely did not love myself. And I stayed until the day I saw him hit our 5 month old baby. I can honestly say that in that moment I stopped loving him. I lost the ability to ever trust him again. I certainly couldn't stay and face a future of explaining to my (abused) child that we stayed because I love people unconditionally.
I welcome comments on this topic and I'd like to see what answers others have found to my questions. I'd really like to explore this topic more, to better understand what my friends mean when they talk about unconditional love. So fire away if you disagree with me.