January-February 2010 Selected Content

Sometimes I'm not sure exactly what type of homeschooler I am. When someone asks me, "What curriculum do you use?" and I feebly attempt to explain that we don't use a pre-packaged curriculum, I feel very daring and unschoolish. I know that many people who hear me say that think that I'm a little nuts. But when I read hard core unschooling books, I have to stop and think. If I ask myself, "Do I really let my children decide what they're going to learn every day?" then I admit, the answer has to be no.

I guess I'm somewhere in between unschoolers and conventional educators. I rarely use text books and work books, and I do some narration like Charlotte Mason, but I do not take my children on her recommended nature walks. I enjoy reading John Holt and I agree with a lot of what he says (and I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of the times where we disagree, he may be right after all), but I provide more structure and direction than true unschoolers do; after all, my children didn't ask me to teach them about long division or world explorers this year, and that's what I'm doing. Still, I love reading unschooling books and issues of HEM, and I have no use for conventional educational books. And I'm occasionally afflicted by both kinds of guilt - conventional educational guilt that accuses me of not giving my children enough structure or of leaving out vital subject matter and unschooling guilt that puts me through the ringer for using too much structure and providing too few choices.

Some people would call me an "eclectic" homeschooler. It's probably an accurate description, but to me, it's unsatisfactorily vague. "Eclectic" means a mix. Well, a mix of what? I prefer Mary Hood's term, "relaxed homeschooler." We do what works for my temperament and personality and for the personality and learning style of each child. We're flexible, we have fun, and we use common sense.

But, still, sometimes, I wonder where exactly I fit in.

Or I did, that is, until I had my first encounter with the local school district. That removed all doubts whatsoever. Now I know exactly what camp I belong to, and it isn't theirs.

In Pennsylvania, homeschoolers don't have to do much of anything until their child hits age 8. Then the fun begins with an affidavit, a list of objectives for each subject, and more. I must tell you, I wasn't too concerned at first. Veteran homeschoolers told me I could be as vague as I wanted to on the objectives. Some objectives, I found, were easy - I had already decided on long division, fractions and decimals for math this year, for example. But spelling? What would I say? I wanted my daughter Maria's spelling to improve this year. So that's what I wrote: "To improve Maria's spelling skills."

Unfortunately, this objective was too vague for the school district.

"I understand it's vague," I admitted over the phone. "But how can I be more specific without providing a spelling list?"

"Well, what curricula are you using?" the lady from the school district asked me. "Are you using ours?"

Here we go, I thought. "I design my own curriculum," I told her, trying to sound both competent and confident. "I integrate spelling with what my child's currently reading and writing." (Which is true. I believe that children learn to spell best by doing tons of reading and writing - so I provide an environment that encourages my children to read and write prolifically - and I never assign spelling lists at all.)

I suspect that even the little information I gave was something of a minor shock to the poor lady, who immediately began a little lecture on the necessity of ensuring that my child is learning the proper material for the appropriate grade level, leaving me with the distinct impression that she didn't care whether my child could speak and write perfect English by the time she finishes elementary school, as long as she learned what a noun was in first grade, what a verb was in second grade, and what an adjective was in third grade. In addition, I found that even my specific math objectives weren't good enough. "Long division is an important skill," the lady from the school district conceded. "But is she learning to do word problems and to read graphs?"

Yes, we have covered both of those things, and I intended to cover them even more in the year to come. But surely the school district didn't want me to write down every little item we were going to talk about during the course of a whole year!

We reached a compromise at last. I agreed to change every objective on my sheet to a statement that I would follow the state standards for my daughter's grade level in that subject. Then she told me where to find the state standards on-line.

Great. I hung up the phone and turned on the computer. I decided that if I was going to change my objectives as agreed, I'd better at least take a look at those state standards. Maybe I'd even print them out and refer to them now and then to make sure I was on track.

Then I found the website and my jaw dropped. There was no way I was going to use all the toner in my printer for this document. The state standards were 229 pages long!

As I slowly scrolled down and skimmed this lengthy document, I saw writing skills listed for fifth grade that my husband's high school students hadn't mastered. I kept scrolling, and I saw every conceivable skill broken down into unbelievably numerous and detailed subdivisions. I saw words I had never heard of. Tessellation was one of the few mysterious terms I remember. Whatever it was, Maria needed to learn how to do it by fifth grade. My mind was whirling.

When I recovered from my initial shock and (I might add) panic, I recognized that whoever had made up these standards must have been trying to evoke just the emotions that I was feeling. They were trying to impress the reader, and, even more, to transform learning into a complicated science that only professional experts could possibly be qualified to accomplish.

It was at that moment that I knew for sure where I belonged on the range of homeschoolers.

I belong to the group that believes that learning is a natural process. A fun, joyful, often spontaneous process. I believe that learning is work, sometimes hard work - not necessarily agonizing, tedious toil but fascinating work that absorbs our time, our thoughts, and our hearts. I believe that learning isn't about memorizing specific facts or taking tests but about discovering how to think and how to become a cultured, well-rounded, responsible person who can communicate well with others. Furthermore, I believe that learning should take place in a comfortable, relaxed environment with an educator who feels a sincere interest and affection for the child and who uses materials that suit the child's interests, needs and learning style. Last but not least, I believe that learning is an on-going endeavor, not to be confined to a certain age or place or time of day. Learning is a way of life.

I'm still without a label for my specific brand of homeschooling, but that doesn't bother me. I know I'm a lot closer to unschooling than I am to public school, and I'm comfortable with that, even if I'm not a hard-core, true blue unschooler. The 229 pages of educational lingo has driven all conventional schooling guilt from my mind, for I know I want no part of that type of bureaucratic approach, and the shock of the lady from the school district at my free-spirited teaching style has taken care of my unschooling guilt for a while. I still feel twinges of panic at the thought of upcoming state-required testing, evaluations, and portfolios, but deep inside, I trust that natural, relaxed homeschooling works, and therefore the state requirements are more of a nuisance than a threat.

Call me a relaxed homeschooler, a natural learner, or call me crazy (you won't be the first). It doesn't matter. I know what camp I'm in now, and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

© 2010, Agnes Penny