Time to Unschool

Gemma-Rose (7) had a loose front tooth. Every spare moment, she could be found, fingers in her mouth, wiggling and twisting and turning that little tooth. Soon it was hanging by a thread. At lunchtime, two days ago, it finally fell out after one bite of her sandwich, much to my youngest daughter’s delight and relief. She presented it to me on the palm of her hand as if it were a trophy, as if she’d achieved something tremendous. And, of course, we all congratulated her and shared in her happy moment.

“You can write a blog post about your tooth,” Imogen suggested.

“You’ll need some photos,” Sophie added.

“I’ll get the camera.”

Gemma-Rose obligingly opened her mouth wide in a huge grin and snap! snap! this childhood milestone was captured forever.

Gemma-Rose looks so cute. My mother’s heart goes soft and gooey looking at her. I just want to pick her up and hug and kiss her.

So what has all this got to do with unschooling?

We have been homeschooling since 1992. That sounds like a long time, doesn’t it? However, it doesn’t feel that way. It seems like only yesterday that we began homeschooling our first child. And soon, perhaps the day after tomorrow, the adventure will be over. Before we know it, our youngest child, Gemma-Rose will be all grown up and setting off into the wide world to live a life of her own.

Our daughter Felicity sometimes describes herself as the guinea pig child. I know what she means. I was the oldest child in my family too. Yes, her upbringing and the way we homeschooled her was a bit of an experiment.

I remember the day we brought Felicity home from the hospital. I gathered her in my arms, that tiny tightly wrapped bundle of newborn baby, and I walked out through the hospital doors rather hesitantly, expecting to be stopped any moment: “Excuse me Madam, but we can’t just let you walk out of here with that baby. Where’s your experience? Do you know how to bring up a baby? She’s too precious to be given to just anyone.” But of course, no one stopped me. Felicity belonged to us and it was our job to discover the best way of raising her.

We did our best and she survived the first five years, despite our rather bumbling style of parenting. And then the day arrived when we had to consider her education. We decided not to send our daughter to school. Surely we could teach her at home? Of course, in the beginning, we didn’t know much about homeschooling. Like parenting, we had to learn about it on the go.

I think about those up and down years as we tried to gain experience and confidence and find the best way to educate our children. It wasn’t easy. Quite often I felt so stressed out trying to do what was right for my children. I had to be not only the best mother but the best homeschooling mother too. And I didn’t really know how I was to achieve that. At times I felt such a sense of responsibility. I felt as if I were carrying a huge burden.

There were days when I’d crack: “If you don’t do your school work, if you don’t learn this or that, if you don’t try, I will send you to school. I can’t take any more.” I’d rush out the back door and sit on the garden wall, my head pounding, my heart racing. I’d kept my children home so we could enjoy each other, so I could give the best to them. And some days we didn’t enjoy anything at all: the baby would be crying, the toddler was demanding, and I didn’t seem to have the energy to encourage the older ones along, to make them do the work I thought they should be doing. I didn’t enjoy feeling so tired and helpless and frustrated. I felt I was failing both as a mother and a homeschooling parent. Was it worth it? Should I just carry out my threat and send my children to school? But I couldn’t quite do it. I knew this job of raising and educating my children was mine alone and I had to find a way that worked.

After some time sitting on my sun-drenched wall trying to calm down, with my children peering anxiously out the window at their ‘dragon’ mother, I’d return and force a smile on my face saying, “Grab the picnic basket and make some sandwiches. We’re going bushwalking.” Worried expressions would instantly disappear and everyone would fly around the kitchen gathering the necessary supplies. Part of me would think, “You should make them return to the work they didn’t complete. What kind of lesson are you teaching them?” But most of me didn’t care. I just wanted to forget all the problems, leave them behind at home and set out on an adventure.

Soon we’d be tramping down the bush tracks, taking turns carrying the baby and swinging the toddler along. And I would look at my kids with love, and think, “This is what it’s all about.” Joy had returned to the day. I’d come home thinking, “I want to homeschool my children, but I don’t want to fight with them. They won’t learn anything in an atmosphere of conflict, and our relationship will be ruined. We are a family. And a family should be a place of love, joy, encouragement, support and peace as well as a place of growth and learning.”

Gradually I was discovering what was really important. And bit by bit, I rejected anything that led us away from that close and happy relationship that I knew was the most important thing in the world. I realised that a lot of what was causing our conflict was other people’s expectations and timetables:
My children had to do this, that, and the other, not because it fulfilled their needs, but because someone (not very important) expected them to achieve this or that. Worse, sometimes this or that had to be achieved by a particular age. And sometimes I brought trouble upon myself: I simply wanted my children to do certain things to impress certain (not very important) people.

Also, our homeschooling routine didn’t take into account the needs of our little people. Either I taught the older children or I looked after the younger ones. I couldn’t seem to do both at the same time.

But we learn with prayer and time and experience. Eventually, I let go of all those expectations imposed on us from outside. I learnt to listen to my children. And trust. Now we are homeschooling the gentle way, the unschooling way. Our children are learning but not at the expense of our family relationships.

And so here we are, many years later, our last child seven years old. And my problem these days isn’t finding a method that works for our family. No. Our problem is time, time that passes so quickly. The day after tomorrow will arrive very soon and my homeschooling days will be over. So I have to make every moment count. I have to live for today and enjoy every minute.

And how I wish I could have had the confidence to do that with our first child.

“What shall we do this morning?” I ask my younger two girls. They look longingly at the book that’s lying on the coffee table.

“Could you start Ballet Shoes, Mum?”

I remember this old childhood friend and settle down, with the girls snuggled up one on each side.

Soon we are absorbed in the tale with me reading and an occasional question from Gemma-Rose: “What’s a fossil, Mum?”

I come to the end of the first chapter. “Ohhh! Couldn’t you read just a bit more, Mum? Please!”

Both girls have pleading looks on their faces. Who could resist?

Later, my throat dry and my voice scratchy, I finally close the book. And Gemma-Rose smiles. She opens her mouth wide and I see the gap where once she had a tooth. She looks so cute. I just want to hug her and kiss her. I think about time and how it passes so quickly. Soon I won’t have a little girl.

And I reach out and I pull Gemma-Rose onto my lap and close my eyes and I enjoy.