Unschooling

I think Carlo Ricci is one of my favourite mentors (I don’t think he knows he’s a mentor; perhaps I should address him as “muse”, instead).  I agree with him on just about everything when it comes to education.  The only thing I’m not so sure about is his attitude toward educating the educators: he’s going for a jump-in-the-water approach, while I’m of the start-with-one-toe-and-you-won’t-be-scared approach.  When freaked-out, frustrated parents phone me for information on homeschooling, telling them to unschool is probably not the best way to calm them down; most parents can’t wrap their minds around breaking the traditional schooling methods at this point.

I always mention unschooling, though.  I think most people do some research on the subject at one point or another.  It’s a fascinating idea, and parents who are already breaking stride by thinking about homeschooling are generally open to radical ideas.

I really like the concept of unschooling.  The Sudbury Valley approach also interests me.  Of course, all means of education interest me (the Waldorf Method is quite alluring), but child-led learning strikes me as the best.

Interestingly enough, I didn’t unschool my children because there was always the chance they would go into the school system again, and I wanted them to be prepared.  They are both in the public system, now, by choice.

Ironically, had I been left to my own devices as a child, I would likely have ended up teaching myself in much the same way the public school system does now.

Carlo has recently begun putting some of his lectures on youtube.

I guess _The Chrysalids_ couldn’t reach everyone

How did we regress, educationally?  How did we come to think one type of education worked for all students?  How did we come to think of anyone under the age of 18 as a student?

It’s frustrating to not be able to help a boy, whose only problem is preferring to be on the soccer field than in the classroom.

Toe socks are great, but not for someone who has six toes.

Curating

“Curate” is a curious word.  According to the 1888 edition of Chambers’s Eymological Dictionary, the word comes from the Latin cura, to care.  We have used the term to apply to “inferior clergymen” (how is it the people who do the hardest work are considered to be inferior?); to one who handles art, music and books of infinitesimal quantities and values; to one who cares for anything in a superintendent’s capacity.

Curating an art show is, in itself, a type of art.  Arranging finger-paintings on the refrigerator is, apparently, not curating.

“Curate” is not the same as “curator”.  Curating an entire parish is not an enviable job.  Curating an entire library of ancient books is an enviable job.

…and to think I teach this language for a living…

Do teenagers read?

Blair Bertrand writes a blog which I read faithfully; not for his definitive conclusions, but for his curious explorations.  One of his newer posts has me writing lists on the backs of envelopes and pestering my students for more details.

As an English tutor, I would have to change the question from “how do teenagers read?” to “do teenagers read?”  Invariably, the answer is, “yes”.  Books, not necessarily.  Comics, yes.  Graphic novels, yes.  Non-fiction, particularly sports magazines and certain sections of the newspaper, yes.  Anything involving taboo subjects such as drugs, death and sex, yes.  Anything banned by the Authority Figures, yes.  Anything recommended by the Authority Figures, no.  These are the answers I get from students whose first reply is, “I don’t read”.

My two teenagers were raised in an entirely different atmosphere than most of my students.  Not only were they read to from the moment of birth, but they were home-schooled for many years, and therefore didn’t follow traditional school reading curriculum.  There are no literary limits in my house: classic literature, comics, banned books, cereal boxes; they’re all the same.

My 15-year-old son reads a few fantasy novels and graphic novels, but mostly non-fiction, and mostly to gain information for some nefarious activity; this can range from bicycle repair (oh, yes, it can be nefarious) to the maximum penalty received for graffiti.  He follows the same rules as my students, but actually seems to enjoy reading the assigned literature in English class.  He gets a kick out of Shakespeare.

My 13-year-old daughter reads novels for escapism.  A lot of young-adult novels (she’s recently started an Alex Sanchez kick, but also lives for Deborah Ellis, Eric Wilson and Tim Wynne-Jones).  She also seems to like the English class assignments.

What do I remember from my teenage years?  I remember the novels I’ve kept:

I am David by Anne Holm

The Man Without A Face by Isabelle Holland

A Candle For Saint Anthony by Eleanor Spence

Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

The Last of the Crazy People by Timothy Findley

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Hannah Green

I read a lot of poetry, mainly modern Canadian poets like Leonard Cohen, Gwendolyn MacEwen, and Irving Layton.  In my later adolescence, I started getting into Margaret Atwood, Alice Munro and Margaret Laurence.

My daughter likes some of these books.  My son liked I Am David, but nothing else.  My students don’t wanna hear it….

Why do we bother?

Having celebrated Thanksgiving last week, I thought yesterday’s Sunday School class could spend a little time on W.W.J.B.D. (What Would Jesus Be Doing). While I did not have a large, varied class, and all the students were under the age of 10, I was still disappointed to hear “Jesus was Christian”.

I enlightened a few children; we built a model sukkah and learned about Sukkot.

Last spring, I took a poll at church (which is an Anglican parish, by the way). I had the kids ask the congregation “Why do we hafta go to church?” The answers were as expected: learn about God and Jesus, be part of a faith community, learn to be a good person. Not one of them wanted the kids in church to worship. This is a little frightening, seeing as they’re obviously not learning about Jesus, either.

So, the purpose of organised religion in modern society would be…?

An individual education

Education should be chosen by the individual. There is no practical purpose to studying Shakespeare’s writings, other than so one can teach it to other people. If a person has no interest in Shakespeare, then why make him learn it? If a person is interested, allow him to be interested. If a person is fascinated by studying all facets of Shakespeare’s writing, then allow the fascination to bloom.

To hear, “Oh, I understand!” or to see the brilliant face of enthrallment is much more important than a correct answer to a posed question. To have your child up past bedtime, checking to see if the Summer of Love was 1967 or 1969, because he won’t be able to sleep without knowing, is the best part of teaching.

Education is good

All education is good. Period. Public school, religious schools, private schools – they’re all good. Everything we learn can be good, depending on how we use the information: if one were to learn how to kill a man, one could use the information to kill men, or to avoid killing men.

Non-linear lines

Don’t get me wrong: lined paper can be a good thing.  In Modern Society, one must know, intrinsically, how to write on the lines, between the lines.  Nevertheless, wouldn’t it be a good thing to be able to write on unlined paper, to create one’s own lines?