Unschooling: Impressing Other People
Years ago, we lived in a house with a white kitchen floor, a sea of shiny tiles that reflected the light. When I first saw that floor, I exclaimed with delight. It was beautiful.
Every day, I mopped my kitchen floor with care. Sometimes I mopped it more than once. I guarded it from dirt and spills, which wasn’t always easy because I had young children who were inclined to drop food crumbs and slosh milk. Whenever I found a little-person-trail upon my tiles, I’d frown and say, “How did that happen? You’ll have to learn to be more careful!”
It wasn’t only my kitchen floor that I was concerned about. Oh no, I tried to keep my whole house sparkling clean. And mostly, I succeeded, which pleased me immensely because I soon had a reputation for having the cleanest house of all my friends: “I don’t know how you do it! Your home is always so neat and tidy. And so are your kids. You are a wonderful mother!”
Yes, I tried to manage my kids as effectively as I managed my house. I brushed my girls’ hair thoroughly, and plaited braids, and added ribbons. No tangles or fly-away strands. All my kids wore matching socks. Their shoes were polished. Their faces were clean. And their behaviour? I tried to make that perfect as well: “You’re a reflection of your family!”
I guess my kids reflected my intention to impress other people.
It wasn’t easy keeping up with such high standards. Often, I was exhausted because, of course, I couldn’t rest when my children were sleeping or busy playing. I had to use my free time to run around the house, returning toys to their baskets, wiping away the latest batch of sticky fingerprints, and ironing the piles of pretty little dresses and matching t-shirts and shorts.
As you’ve probably guessed, I wasn’t a fan of messy activities such as painting and digging in the dirt. I knew I should be. Kids need to experiment and explore and play without restriction. That’s how they learn. It’s also what brings them great delight. So I did allow my kids to do fun stuff. I just tried to confine the mess to one area of the house, a place that could be tidied up quickly if necessary. Because, what if someone arrived on our doorstep unexpectedly? We always had to be ready and waiting. I didn’t want to let go of my prized reputation.
Deep inside, I knew that being a wonderful mother has nothing to do with a clean home and perfectly presented kids. I’d say to myself, “What does it matter what other people think? It’s your children who are important, not the opinions of others.” But it was so hard to let go. I guess, for some reason, I needed everyone to tell me that I was doing a great job.
Our family increased in size. I began homeschooling the older ones (and tried to do it perfectly). And then one day, I hit crisis point. I dropped that tall stack of heavy, odd-shaped boxes that I’d been carrying around for years. They tumbled onto my not-yet-cleaned floor, and with tears rolling down my face, I admitted that I couldn’t keep up with everything that I thought I needed to do.
I realised that I’d turned into a grumpy dragon mother who was missing out on all the delights of having a beautiful family. I knew I had no choice: I had to let go, not only of other people’s expectations but my own as well. That was the start of our journey back to unschooling. Fortunately, by that time, we were no longer living in a house with a shiny white tiled kitchen floor.
The other day, I was thinking about that floor, and then I remembered the friends I’d tried to impress. I’m no longer in contact with any of the women of my early parenting days. They somehow slipped out of my life. I wonder if they ever think, “I wonder what happened to that woman with the immaculate house and kids? The fussy one. What was her name?” Or don’t they remember me at all?
It’s strange how I was willing to do things to impress other people. I wanted to look good in their eyes. I ended up putting my reputation ahead of my kids’ needs. My false reputation. Because all those exclamations about being such a good mother couldn’t have been true because I didn’t do what was right for my kids.
So, why don’t we ignore the milky spills, let kids dig in the dirt, take time to hug amongst the mess? Don’t worry about what others might think. Be confident. Do what we think is best. Don’t try to impress.
Instead, impress our kids. Leave the only mark that lasts: our fingerprints of love.
Photos
When my girls were hunting for eggs at Easter, they uncovered lots of unimportant dust!