Home Education Magazine

November-December 1998 - Articles

Compulsory Unschooling?

Janet Lowry

Two years ago, when Fiona turned 4, Sam and I decided to homeschool her. She is an inventive, observant child, sensitive and funny and great company. It would be a tragedy to find school rubbing away her uniqueness. Once we made this decision, it seemed like such a radical step for me, the daughter of a public school principal and teacher, the niece of a public school teacher, the sister of two public... well, you get the idea. So I read and read and read. I read John Holt, back issues of Home Education Magazine and Growing Without Schooling. I read books by the Moores. I even read The Teenage Liberation Handbook. I wanted to learn how people conduct a homeschooling life.

I learned useful responses for the friendly and unfriendly questions like, "How do you do it?" and "How will they ever be socialized?" and "You're going to do what with my grandchildren?" Mostly I was learning not to repeat other people's mistakes, and the most common one, clearly, was to replicate school at home. So I never had the urge to get a pointer, or chalk, or a blackboard. I didn't go and search out a curriculum. I had no intention of plopping the child in a chair at 8:30 a.m. with a workbook and an end-of-chapter quiz. It was dawning on me that my children would learn best if I stayed accessible and stayed out of their way. It was quite a relief, actually.

Imagine my surprise to find myself taking attendance, pretending to collect lunch money, and saying "ding-a-ling-a-ling" for recess time. I probably should not have been so surprised. Fiona is a structure child. I remember last year her dismay at the unexpected. At the start of the day, she wanted me to tell her each and every thing we would be doing. I wrote out schedules with little icons for my pre-reader. But each morning she still comes into my room with "What are we doing today?" and "What else?"

On the days when we go with the flow, work some, relax some, read some, play some, (my favorite kind of day), Fiona will often become her own behavior problem. Her temper, as fiery as my own, is set off continually. The baby, Bridget, is hugged too hard, played with like a doll, and made to take walks until she is miserable. Susannah, 3, is teased and stolen from, left behind and provoked to shrieking. The dog gets hauled around. In short, Fiona is not particularly happy here.

Sometimes I think this behavior shows I ought to be doing more with her and for her; that she is in need of total attention, activities, structure (this is how I came to be taking attendance). I plan the lesson, I make everybody read together, I answer to teacher and I try to let go of my resentment. This can backfire, anyway. I recently spent a morning preparing an activity so we could "do school" with a visiting friend. The friend was as happy as a clam, Fiona ditched the whole thing after 5 minutes, grumpy. We got her a workbook because she wanted one so much and often enjoys doing it, but after doing 5 or 6 pages she begins to get angry and bored, but begs me to do just one more page. We can never seem to quit gracefully.

How strange it is that my child who is free from school doesn't want to be free at all. While I studied Holt et al., Fiona was soaking up Starting School, and Little {insert species here} Goes to School, and every beginners word book with its required "At School" page. Her friends all went off to preschool. Her merest acquaintances went off to preschool. Since I have always felt that the 0-5 years are an irreplaceable dream-time, she would not be going to preschool. And now, although we treated it all very positively, not to the elementary school down the street, either.

Well, here is a quandary I hadn't anticipated. What is freedom, if the individual given it doesn't want it? Compulsory unschooling? Isn't this a complete oxymoron? It puts me between a rock and a hard place. It is important to me to respect my daughter's opinions and feelings, foster her huge store of curiosity and intense energy and allow her to direct her own education. If her curiosity leads her to school, isn't that where she should go? On the other hand, she is not in school for very strong, clear reasons.

When we first decided to do this, Sam and I agreed that we would reassess the situation for each child as she turned 7. This would allow us to work out any difficulties and listen to how the child felt about homeschoooling, as well as allow us (OK, me) an out if it wasn't working. Meanwhile we would offer her non-schoolbased opportunities to give her plenty of time with other kids...ballet lessons, swimming classes, T-ball, Daisy girl scouting. When she asks when she's going to school, we tell her that there will be a family meeting about it when she turns 7, and we will decide as a family. She nearly always responds "That's when I'm going to go, then." A fair amount of her curiosity is about school. And I am afraid she'll like it.

There is something for her to like. She feels left out of a major part of her friends' shared lives and experiences now. Their day is structured. The teacher gives you something to do at all points of the day, not like your mom, who says "Boredom comes from inside. Give me three ideas of all the things you could do right now." There is the excitement of being with tons of kids. She wouldn't be with me, or her two little sisters so much of the time. She could walk there by herself and feel independent. And she would be there because she wanted to be.

Today I am sure my fears are unfounded and that she will be fine, following her own path, wherever it leads. But tomorrow, with 4th graders slogging through compulsory multi-hour state tests on this end, and the teachers flunking the competency tests at the other end, and everybody under sniper fire as they go out the door, I will want to put my foot down and absolutely forbid going to school. And in any case, if I know the quality of learning my child does at home and in the world is superior, how can I, in all good conscience, allow her to get an inferior education?

We have one year. I hope that Fiona will either learn to read and the world opens up for her or she discovers something wonderful to pursue. I hope she will find the activities she is involved in provide her with satisfactory kid-time. I hope she can find among the very few elementary homeschoolers in our area, a kindred spirit who shares her interests. I hope that if she does try school, it's only for a little while.

© 1998, Janet Lowry

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