Ruminating on educating

As it's the beginning of a new academic term, my thoughts have naturally turned to our own educational arrangements. A couple of friends are facing those big decisions about whether to go mainstream or seek alternatives and our conversations have touched on the home education option. It seems like a good moment to look back at our first term and share some thoughts and observations about the business.

It's probably too much waffling for one post, so I imagine I'll spin it out a bit - by which time I'll hopefully have got back into the swing of blogging a bit more regularly.

The decision to home educate is not made lightly. Even I, who had decided almost from Eli's first month that he would not be entrusted to the state for his upbringing, felt some self-doubt creep in when it came to the end of his short time at the local Steiner kindergarten. I hadn't ever properly taken on board the very obvious fact that almost everyone sends their children to school. It is not only expected, it is largely unquestioned.

It seems that the general consensus is that school, whilst not necessarily the ideal option, is the safest. The practical considerations alone give rise to enough consternation to prevent treading another path - bringing in enough money whilst having children at home; not feeling that one has enough resources of energy to be around ones offspring constantly; not having the requisite support network and so on and so on. I am familiar with these anxieties, it can seem logistically impossible before you even get to the education bit.

I think our real fears kick in when we get to our children's well-being and future prospects. Will our children learn all they need to know from primarily being with one person, perhaps two at the most? Will they need more social contact than we can provide for them? How will they learn to read????

These questions and worries are valid and real. A certain amount of self-confidence and a sizeable rebellious streak are useful when contemplating them. I cannot speak for others or offer any sureties but I can share our experience and add to the growing numbers of people who say that school doesn't have to be the only way.

Knowing the territory

Ever since I was a girl I've enjoyed being able to name things in the natural world. Walking the woods and waste grounds of my childhood I would feel a flush of recognition and pride if I came across a tree or a wild flower that I knew. I don't know that there were a huge number that I recognised -  wild garlic in the spring, the oak tree and the bluebell were perhaps the only names that came easily to mind - but even this basic knowledge helped me feel part of that landscape. I felt I knew my neighbours.

There were all the usual special places and secret spots - up in the trees or in tangled dens beneath them - long summers were lived in these semi-wilds. I loved them without thinking and when one little patch of woodland was threatened by someone extending their garden, I was angry and grieved for the lost trees when they were gone.

In his book Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv talks about the need for children to be familiar with their own natural neighbourhood and the occupants of it before they can be expected to care about the earth on a grander, more abstract scale. Faced with the entire planet to worry about, we can be forgiven for feeling overwhelmed. When so much of our natural world faces extinction it makes sense to start with what we know and can name; learning to care about 'the environment' comes as a result of learning to care about our own backyard.

All this feels particularly pertinent in the light of the threat to ash trees. Having read this heartbreaking piece about ash die back, in which the writer gives the bleak view that most people are oblivious to the tragedy happening in our woodlands, this seems more true than ever. If it is the case that 'many people couldn't identify an ash' then what hope is there that they would feel any sadness for its loss? If the general feeling is that one tree is after all much like another, how can we hope to truly be of use to our ailing planet? Diversity is what makes this world go round. The exquisite uniqueness of literally every living thing on or under the surface of this spinning rock is what provides the wonder and magic of our existence.

My naturalist knowledge hasn't improved a massive amount since my early days scrabbling through tatty woods, but I continue to be an earnest learner and I'm trying to encourage a similar curiosity in my children.

This year, as Monty's legs have grown a little longer, we have spent more time walking, looking and gathering than ever before. Eli has become a keen spotter of wild foods and ash saplings and Monty has fully immersed himself in any berry-picking activities he's been involved in. They have become connoisseurs of dramatic skies and Eli often urges me to 'take a picture!' of a lovely view or a striking flower.

Helping them to know and love the play of light in the woodland, the eerie silence and bleak beauty of the moor, the brooding Pennine skies and the capricious moods of our Northern weather is a constant pleasure. Forging a connection with this place is the key to connection with all natural places, helping us to understand that 'the environment' is something immediate and necessary. No need for worksheets, a pair of sturdy shoes is all that's required. Together we map the seasons of our own backyard,

Education otherwise...

I've been asked on a few occasions about how we're all doing with our adventures in home education, so a few weeks into Eli's full-time 'unschooling', I thought I'd offer a report of how we're getting on. 

On the whole it has been great, spending time with Eli on his own has been a real gift. In our first week there was a real skip in his step and we enjoyed some perfect golden moments when everything felt just right.

Since that first week challenges have crept in, as they will, but nothing that some thought and good management couldn't put right. It's sometimes hard to get the balance right between social engagements and quiet time at home, and of course, having Eli with me all the time means there isn't much chance for me to switch off.

There's plenty to feel good about however; Eli has started reading which is a great relief for me. I've been trying to hold onto the wisdom that all children surrounded by books will learn to read in their own time, but I knew I'd be nervous until he actually started being able to put letters together. I was never totally relaxed about just leaving him to it, so I've put various things in his path like a Letterland book and a Montessori moveable alphabet, but mostly it's been his own motivation and enquiry that has lead us to this point. He's been enjoying writing for a while, asking us how to spell out various words and I think again the Letterland book really helped us with that - if he didn't know what a letter was we could refer to the corresponding character and this prompted his memory. 

I have no idea how they teach reading in schools so my approach has been mostly based on instinct and knowing Eli's moods and preferences. The real breakthrough only happened because he decided, very definitely, that he wanted to read. I've been enjoying his triumphant exclamations when he manages to read a word totally without help, it's an amazing thing to witness. 

Other than reading, we've been drawing, cycling, shopping, talking, climbing, swimming, cooking, having fun in the woods, meeting up with friends, and all the bits in between. I think I'm learning to relax a little and trust in his own innate ability to learn. I know there will be tough times, when I worry about how differently we're doing things, when I feel weary and low on resources; but I can't help feeling that for as long as it lasts, this is a special way to live.

Recently, on a bike ride, as we were zooming down a hill beside a river, Eli shouted at the top of his lungs 'I'm free!'. How wonderful it was to hear it.

Fizz

I'm fairly lazy when it comes to Pinterest (the 'virtual pinboard' dontcha know?). It's a great idea - you find things of interest when you're skipping about the web, then 'pin' them for later. Other people can see what you've saved and you can see theirs, it's a veritable feast of inspiration. Great ideas for kids catch on quickly and there's a big mass sharing of wonderfully fun things to do with your children. I'm only an occasional caller to my 'boards' and I'm rubbish at putting things up, but I'm also very grateful when I find a good activity.

This one involves bicarb and vinegar, always a fun combination in mini volcanoes and model rockets. The 'how to' is simple: Mix food colouring and vinegar and drop it onto a layer of bicarbonate of soda. Much fizzing and bubbling ensues which delights and amazes. The aesthetic element to this activity was particularly satisfying; watching the yellow and blue merge into green had me getting all annoyingly educational.

  

Needless to say, the boys absolutely loved it and had we had more bicarb, we could probably have continued playing for some time. I'm looking forward to being able to add more colours next time when I've sourced some more droppers. Truly fun for all the family.

(I couldn't resist putting up a picture of these gorgeous flowers that my friends brought round from their garden...beautiful.)

Upwards

Whilst we've been going about our lives these last few weeks, big things have been going on for the boys and I. It may not be obvious to the casual observer; but quietly, inwardly, we are shifting and growing.

Eli and I are making our aquaintance with Fear. Eli has met it head-on whereas I am feeling around the edges; trying to discover its shape, resisting the urge to run away.

I'm not sure that I've been fully aware, in the moment, of my eldest boy's achievements. Growing up alongside a grab-life-by-the-throat brother and some wonderfully fearless friends means that sometimes his own little triumphs perhaps go unheralded.

Whilst we were at a climbing centre, trying some bigger climbs with ropes; Eli's very good friend scrambled with exquisite agility to the top of the wall, twice. I suspected that my boy would find the challenge more daunting. And he did. But despite momentary reluctance, he gave it a go. His whole body was tense and I guessed that he was getting very wobbly legs and very sweaty palms. He stayed up on those ropes though, tried a couple of climbs and swung about a bit - trying very hard to learn to trust that the harness was keeping him safe. I'm hoping that next time, he'll climb a little higher and feel a little braver, but if he doesn't that's fine too.

Only a few days later and we were swimming. Monty independently and joyfully doggy-paddling about. Eli blue, shivering, stiff with anxiety and swallowing many mouthfuls of pool water. Again though, he kept pushing his comfort; breathing deeply in an effort to relax, trying to trust this time that his arm-bands were keeping him safe. He kept lifting his feet up and willing himself forward despite his worry.

Our children teach us so much don't they? We're not always aware of the lessons we're being taught, but the learning is happening all the time.

My own fears are about making big decisions for our future, facing difficulties and doubts - can I do this? Do I have the strength? As Eli is showing me; sometimes we need to just take the plunge, step out of our comfort zone and find out what we're really capable of.

Trains, planes and automobiles

I have a dream of an unschooled family life...curiosity is king, we all feel in control about what and how we learn, knowledge will be gained by active pursuit and immersion in the subject, we will follow our dreams and passions and our days will be filled with adventure. It perhaps doesn't sound terribly realistic and I know that many days will not be this way, but it is an ideal - something to reach for. We have grown and learned together since they were born, I see home education as a continuation of that. At the moment, Eli is only at his Steiner Kindergarten for a few days a week; from September, he'll be 'home educated' full time. I have used inverted commas with that phrase because I doubt much of our time will actually be spent at home. My hope is that we will have many more days of togetherness and learning like this one spent at MoSI (Museum of Science and Industry in Manchester).

We had so much to talk about here! We had conversations that covered Jupiter's spot, lifting weights with gears, earthquakes, bomber planes, war - and so so much more. It's days like this that help me believe we can do it...that help me to be confident that learning happens in an organic and spontaneous way and that being together makes it all the more joyful.