NaBloPoHalfMo: Accomplishment

Note: This post is still for NaBloPoMo, but I am temporarily abandoning the "play" theme because something else is on my mind today.

I believe people are free and able to determine for themselves when is the right time to accomplish something.

I believe people are free and able to determine for themselves what counts as accomplishment.

I believe people are free and able to determine for themselves how much accomplishment is enough—for the day, for the year, for the whole of their lives.

Enough said?

Size to fit

Our family recently bumped up against what I'll call institutional response. It's the way institutions respond to situations, which is to say, rigidly and without creativity. Institutions usually have reasons for their rigidity, and these usually run along the lines of "the alternative is logistically and/or financially too hard to handle" and "if we make an exception for you, we'd have to make an exception for everyone."

I have managed an institution (a traditional family is one), so I understand both the temptation and the seeming good sense of those reasons.

What unschooling has shown me, though, is that those reasons are cop-outs. There are myriad ways to run an institution (as this article shows), and rigidity is the very least of them. As unschooling parents, as human beings, we prefer to focus on the individual: the individual situation, the individual (and often extenuating) circumstances, and, above all, the individual person standing in front of us.

There is a lot of theory wrapped up in unschooling and a lot of ideals. Both of these leave a lot of room for institutional response. For instance, if one abhors school, one might be tempted (and this "one" was) to refuse to allow one's child to set foot in a school, or to decline to spend any money on formal schooling, including college. But to take either of those positions is exactly contrary to what unschooling is all about. Unschooling parents help their children attend school if the kids want to, often suffering tremendous angst and a fair amount of compromise and outright inconvenience to do so. (Imagine the dilemma faced by a friend of mine who has a nightowl household and a family that travels a lot, and who now has one daughter asking to try school.)

Other examples: Suppose an unschooling parent holds a firm belief that toy guns contribute to the violence in the world, or that plastic toys are an abomination, or that meat is murder, or that TV rots your brain. Suppose he or she believes that Christ died for our sins or that the Law of Attraction works. The institutional response to these beliefs is rules and close-mindedness: "You can't" or "You must." In her mind, the parent who employs an institutional response might have excellent reasons for the rules she sets. She might not call them rules, and she might approach the rules with gentleness and respect. She might believe she is implementing the rules without punishment. And she might perceive cooperation and understanding from her kids and think everything is hunky-dory.

But here's the deal: Any time you let your belief system or your convenience come between your child and your child's wants, goals, or desires, that is institutional response. It's rigid and it's inherently disrespectful of the individual. Also, it is punishment because when you keep your child from having what he wants, you are punishing your child, and I don't really care how you pretty it up.

The alternative to this rigidity and disrespect is adaptability and acceptance. Adapt to your child. Accept your child for Who He Is, both in this moment and in the larger sense. And always, always respond as an individual and to an individual.

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That should be the end of this post, but as I was writing it, I could just hear the comments coming in. So, let me add a couple of footnotes to head some of those off:

Convenience and compromise - Having the wants and interests of one child conflict with the wants and interests of another child is probably the hardest situation an unschooling parent faces and you have my sympathy. The complexities of such a situation are not covered by this blog post.

Your excellent reasons - I do not care what they are. Your child has excellent reasons for his or her choices, too. They count, too, and often they count more. You have had your whole life to build your belief system. Share it with your child, live it in front of your child, and then get out of his way and let him build his own belief system. He will almost certainly make some choices that you don't like. You will survive this, I promise.

Valued hopes

From Lynelle's comment on my previous post: "i kind of believe that as a parent, it's actually part of my job to try to instill certain values in my kids. i try to do that through example, suggestions, sharing experiences, asking my kids questions about their thoughts and feelings and reasons, and talks."

She goes on to detail some of the values she hopes her kids will share.

I've been thinking about this a lot these past few days. What are my values? Are there things that I am SO passionate about that seeing their opposites in my kids would really bother me? For half a minute, as I ran through the list of things people often freak out about, I thought Maybe I'm exempt. I mean, religion is the biggie, and I'm not religious, so...

But there are things I feel religious about. Oh, yeah. Unschooling. Peaceful parenting. Being kind. Making fun a priority. Living a wide-sky life. Certain political and social viewpoints that I hold.

Do I hope for my kids to share those values, and have I tried to instill those values in my kids? Yes, and yes. And do I, intentionally or otherwise, make clear to my kids when they are choosing something that is contrary to those values? Yep.

I try. I hope for. I communicate.

But that's where it stops.

Let's say MJ interacts with somebody else in a way that I characterize as unkind. I might talk to her about the other person's viewpoint, about things I think she could do to make amends, about strategies for interactions with this person in the future that might have a better outcome. All of this is parenting, and it can be peaceful and kind and free from shaming or punishment. (It can also be brief. A ten-second conversation is going to tell me if she is open to discussing this with me. And if she is, a two-minute conversation might be long enough to cover all of the above.)

But if MJ reviews her own actions and is fine with them, or if she does not want to discuss it... At that point, I am left with the relationship that I have with MJ, and the relationship that I have with the person I think she hurt. I can separate those from each other. My relationship with MJ from that point is just as it usually is: accepting, respectful, taken for what is now rather than what is past (and the problematic interaction is definitely past). My relationship with the other person is whatever s/he and I need it to be, and I can respond as a sympathetic friend or sympathetic stranger or whatever is appropriate.

Beyond that, I'm helpless. MJ's relationship with this other person is none of my business. MJ's assessment of her own actions is none of my business, even and perhaps especially when I disagree with her assessment.

One more example: Let's say Chloe becomes a mother and decides that Cry It Out is what works for her family. Phew. Oh boy. First, that is really hard to imagine. Chloe ignoring a needy baby? Not gonna happen. Second, that is really hard to imagine. My poor grandbaby!

Would Chloe hear from me? Oh, yeah. I'd send her the research on the harm that CIO does, and I'd encourage her to see things from the baby's point of view. I'd volunteer to stay at her house and take care of the baby during the night. I'd probably beg.

But if none of that worked... At that point, I'm left with my relationship with Chloe and, separately, my relationship with the baby. I'm still going to want a relationship with Chloe even if she is a sadly misguided mother. And I'm going to believe that the baby needs his grandma desperately, so I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize my contact with him. And of course I'm going to be the most loving, accepting, snuggle-him-up grandma I can be.

Beyond that, I am helpless. It's none of my business.

It is easy to be respectful of our kids when we approve of what they are doing. I think being respectful when we don't really approve is where the "radical" in "radical unschooling" comes in.

The last bastion

After reading my previous post, Jeff Sabo said, "Values are the last bastion of controlling parenting."

Whoa! What a revelation! I, once the quintessential control freak, have made it past the last bastion. When did this happen? And more importantly, did it happen soon enough? With one kid out the door and the other busy making plans, I am very much aware that the time available for getting there goes by very quickly. It can so easily run out while you're still saying "someday."

Do any of these sound familiar?

• "We're unschooling except for math."
• "We're unschooling academics only."
• "We're radical unschoolers except we limit _________."
• "We're radical unschoolers, but we would never let our
  kids __________."

If so, you're not there yet. Tick tock, tick tock. This is your only chance to try another way. What are you waiting for?

Values

I started to write this post as if it's definitively about unschooling, but "unschooling" means different things to different people. Even "radical unschooling"—which refers to the freedom-of-choice parenting that goes along with unschooling for many of us—means different things to different people. I've gotten into trouble (conflicts) in the past when I insisted on a rigid definition of either term. While I continue to be puzzled about why someone would insist on claiming a label that does not really apply to them, I can occasionally, momentarily, acknowledge that some people are simply operating under different definitions than I am.

So let's leave labels out of it and talk instead about values.

We all have 'em. Some values we hold passionately and can defend at great length. Others we inherited from our society or from our parents and live by without giving them much thought. Some of my personal values are represented by some of the labels I accept for myself (liberal, atheist, omnivore, wife, mom, employee—just to name a few), and some of them, as noted above, resist accurate labeling.

One of the biggies in that last category is this:

I value my children's freedom to determine their own values.

I have been called on the carpet over the conspicuous consumption illustrated by my I'm that mom post. In the comments on my follow-up to that post, I responded some to the specifics of that example. I could respond more (and maybe I'm about to) about the factors that led us to decide that trip was okay—that it was MJ's big move-out trip and she was very excited, that the second trip to Oregon wasn't set in stone, that the additional consumption I might really have added to our life was Chloe's return trip home on a train that would have made the trip anyway—and I could talk about what solutions I think might really have a chance of stopping our species' headlong race to self-destruction.

But the thing is, even if I believed we should all reduce our consumption (and I do, even as I doubt it will do much good), and even if the trip decision were exactly as cut-and-dried as I implied in my "I'm that mom" post, I would have made the same decision.

MJ and Chloe know the environmental concerns. They know the time-and-money concerns. And they still enthusiastically chose as they did. And knowing all that, if I had said, "No, we're not doing this because it's not the most environmentally conscious choice," I would be IMPOSING my values on them. If I am the ultimate arbiter of what is an acceptable level of consumption, then in my opinion it's not unschooling and it is a complete violation of one of my most deeply held values.

Living by this value means that I, an omnivore, have had a vegetarian daughter. It means that I, an unschooler, have had a daughter in school—twice! It means that I, an atheist, have a Wiccan daughter. It means that my daughters make purchases that I wish they wouldn't, get piercings (and eventually tattoos) that I wish they wouldn't, spend their time engaged in a few activities that I wish they wouldn't, go off for weeks or months at a time when I wish they'd stay home, move out earlier than I wish they would, and just generally make life choices that I would not necessarily be making for them if I were in charge.

This is something that ALL parents face. Do you really think my mom expected to raise a tattooed atheist unschooler?! Hardly! (Although I think she's mostly okay with it.)

The difference is that I have simply and deliberately chosen to allow my values and my kids' values to diverge before they are adults. Part of my value system is a belief that one doesn't have to be 18 or older to recognize one's own values. And part of what went into my value system is the knowledge that kids who have values imposed on them often end up going in the exact opposite direction. By valuing the things I value and letting them make their own value judgments, even as children and especially as teens, I believe I have provided them with the information that I used to come around to my values without creating an adversarial or guilt-laden environment that might have driven them away from them. For me, that trumps everything else.

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