Ruled by joy

Scene: It is 10:30 p.m. We are flies on the wall of the third-floor corridor of the hotel at an unschooling conference. A wild-eyed boy who bears a charming resemblance to young Harry Potter streaks by, gabbling something about girls. He dances frantically in place as he waits for the elevator to arrive, then dives through the doors as if his very life depends on it. A few minutes later, his pursuers appear. Judging by the noise level, we assume there must be twelve of them, but no, it is only three. "Shh, it's quiet time," warns a mom who is not their mom. The volume comes down for a moment, but we hear it increasing again as the elevator carries them down to the lobby. ("Harry" went up, in case you were wondering.)

Over the last several weeks—perhaps because four unschooling or unschooling-related conferences have taken place in that time—I've been privy to a number of discussions about where one should draw the line between respect for kids and respect for other people's rights and property. I gather (but have no firsthand knowledge) that there was some minor kid-inflicted property damage at the Rethinking Education Conference down in Texas. Some people are outraged by this and blaming unschooling for it.

Even disregarding the fact that RE is not strictly an unschooling conference, I must question their logic. Do they think that 300 schooled kids or, heaven help us, 300 Shriners would have been better behaved at an event like that? *snort*

That said, I don't think it's a bad idea to ponder this issue.

"Unschooling is not unparenting."

This is something that is often said in the unschooling community. "Unschooling parents," the argument continues, "are present with their kids, and involved, and ready to step in."

Uh huh. It's not that I disagree with the people making this argument. I don't. I've seen a lot of unschooling kids and parents in action, and the level of involvement we're talking about is unparalleled.

But.

The whole truth of the matter is that most people walking into an unschooling conference would describe it with words like "chaos" and "running wild" and "irresponsible." At the talks and chats, people are "terribly disrespectful." They bring their kids, they come and go, their cellphones ring and their walkie-talkies beep. In fact, when my grandma expressed interest in coming to LIFE is Good last spring, I felt obliged to warn her off. To someone with her traditional mindset, the conference would probably be terribly unpleasant, and she would probably find a lot of evidence of unparenting.

"You have to see with better eyes than that."

That quote is one of my favorites from The Abyss. Our heroine, Lindsey, is pleading with her husband, Bud, to step away from fear and the reality he has known. She wants him to step into wonder.

And wonder is what I find at an unschooling conference. Because the "chaos" is actually a pretty sophisticated system. It's just not the system that people are used to.

All that motion in the lobby? That's 400+ people moving from point A to point B. All that conversation? That's friendship and support in action. Those kids riding the elevators and running the hallways? That's playtime and socialization. (Remember socialization? A few minutes ago, you were really worried about socialization.) Those kids in the talks and chats? They're there by invitation. And the coming and going? That's all part of an underlying acceptance that our kids' needs come first, even if it means leaving during a speech.

And notice what's missing. The kids aren't fighting. In fact, anger is virtually nonexistent. And that typical scene from the real world—the silent elevator where everyone stares at the numbers—that never happens. There are no strangers here.

And notice what's different. Adults smile at the children. Children smile at the adults. People who cry are comforted. There is lots (LOTS) of hugging. The kids strike up conversations with other kids' parents. The kids strike up conversations with the hotel employees. The kids strike up conversations with the couple who came to this hotel to get away from their kids. The kids strike up conversations with you.

And what's that over there? It's a group of teenagers! They came here voluntarily. They make eye contact. They smile. And then, can you believe it, they take turns with a microphone and share all sorts of details about their lives.

"An old man dies. A young woman lives. A fair trade."
Hartigan (Bruce Willis) in Sin City

I'm sure things get damaged at unschooling conferences. (Zombie makeup can't be easy on the towels, for instance.) I'm sure there are people who are bothered by the noise and who feel (and I agree) that the hotel reservations people really should have warned them. But there are solutions to those problems that do not involve limiting the good stuff.

Why is adding rules and punishments to a kid's life the first, and usually only, solution people come up with? How unimaginative! What limited thinking!

Unschooling parents believe resorting to rules is a creative failure.

Here's an example. I've deliberately chosen a hypothetical situation here, not one I've ever heard about.

Problem: The hotel is unhappy because several towels were stained.
Possible solutions:
- Take up a collection.
- Trade ad space in the conference handbook for some new towels.
- Ask everybody to contribute ragged towels for next year.

The solution does not have to be a new rule, "Zombie makeup is hereby prohibited." In fact, most unschoolers would see replacing a few towels as an incredibly low cost for the fun and learning that some zombie-makeup sessions provide. And by making our kids aware of the problems that come up, by involving our kids in finding solutions to those problems, our kids learn a gazillion times more than they would from any rule.