Category Archives: Planning – or not

Home ed blogging, and feelings of inadequacy

Twice this week, in two completely unrelated conversations with two completely unrelated groups of people, someone has said to me that they no longer read home ed blogs because of the feelings of inadequacy these generate.

I felt quite uncomfortable about this, because although I haven’t been blogging much at all in the past year or so, when I do blog our home ed, it can sometimes veer towards being that kind of blog.

BUT

There is a but. And I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, let alone how to say it! But feelings of guilt and inadequacy can certainly be overwhelming, and perhaps we all have an inner ‘should’, which looks around at what other people are doing to try and get some kind of measure by which to set itself.

It’s just that.. blogging (or Facebook commenting, or posting etc) isn’t life. And yes, this sounds really obvious, but I wonder if we do forget this and assume the family in question to have spent its whole week doing amazing science experiments or completing piles of enlightening workbooks, or asking oh-so-interested questions and finding the answers. Just because those are the presentable bits.

The truth is, all of those hours of silent consolidation or contemplation, or being immersed in Harry Potter for three days straight without coming up for air, of sibling scraps and screaming rows and just plain, banal domesticity – or indeed, hours spent blogging or reading other blogs and Facebooking and general Internet mooching while the children indulge their own CBeebies/ Moshi Monsters/ Bin Weevils habit… aren’t mentioned.

Instead, the temptation is to sometimes say: “Ooh! We did something *educational*! Quick! Let’s blog it!” – just to convince everyone (but mainly ourselves) that we are doing ok, making progress and so on.

BUT

I think all that other stuff (that doesn’t get blogged) is educational too. I could write lists for how it is. In fact, I will:

  • Silent consolidation or contemplation – *thinking time* – is vital, as anyone who knows anything about the learning function knows. We can’t just take in information bites non-stop, and spew it straight back out again in the standard manner that seems to be required by schools – that’s not real learning. We have to ideally go seeking the information ourselves and then take it in at our own pace and then go away and let the subconscious chew on it for a while, and then come back with more questions later. If we have any. Which we might not. (And that’s valid.) Depending on our personality and how we seek and process knowledge.

    The problem (I could pontificate on this for quite some pages) with trying to industrialise – or commercialise – Education is that it doesn’t really box up like that. Not really. You can deliver or sign up for a course in something and bestow or receive a certificate at the end of it, with or without some kind of test, and all of this still doesn’t guarantee any real learning. For that, you need to begin with either curiosity or some other kind of intrinsic motivation. And that’s hard to profit from, or oversee, or monitor, or sell, or buy, or earn money for teaching. Sadly, in the latter case. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

  • Being immersed in Harry Potter for three days straight without coming up for air – well, that’s just reading, isn’t it? I’m no psychologist, but I’m sure it’s useful for the development of our critical faculties, or creativity, or cognitive something-or-other. And yes, many of us are obsessives. I suspect our natural learning function leans more towards focusing exclusively on a thing until we’ve finished or mastered it to our own satisfaction, than it does towards a ‘broad and balanced’ curriculum patchwork quilt of neat and tidy one-hour chunks.
  • Sibling scraps – learning to manage conflict in a safe and fundamentally (although it often doesn’t feel – or sound – like it!) loving environment.
  • Screaming rows – assertiveness training 😉
  • Just plain, banal domesticity – the building blocks of a well-functioning life. Vastly underrated – if you want to know how vastly, go round to a distracted, obsessed, highly intellectual academic’s house for tea. Especially if he doesn’t hire a cleaner. Teaching children – by example – how to endure the ‘boring stuff’ in order to live well (delayed gratification, I suppose) is vital. And something they don’t learn at school.
  • Hours spent blogging or reading other blogs and Facebooking and general Internet mooching – very important information gathering and social networking to facilitate facilitation 😉 (And the parent’s sanity! If you’re that way inclined..)
  • While the children indulge their own CBeebies/ Moshi Monsters/ Bin Weevils habit – this, actually, is really important. I love the fact that we now have those children’s social platforms so that they can learn about group interaction and so on at their own pace, with an off-switch for when it all gets too much, without the pressure of helicopter parents. CBeebies I have more of a love/hate relationship with, but it’s largely uncommercialised and some of the content is great. Anyway, it’s not for me to choose what my children like to watch. If they’re attracted to something, they’ve probably got something to learn from it.

And when I make these points, I hear people say: “Yes OK, all of those things are educational. But is it the kind of education you want your children to have?”

But who’s to say the parent’s (or teacher’s, or local authority’s, or government’s) desire for a child’s education is the best, most appropriate education for that child? I don’t think anyone can say what that is, in fact. Not even the parent. Yes, he or she can be responsive and attentive (although sometimes these hinder the learning process rather than helping it) and present learning opportunities for the child, and create a stimulating ‘learning environment’. I have done all of those things and still do sometimes.

But if the chief motivator really is the child itself – and this can be really difficult, as an adult, to allow precisely because of those feelings of guilt and fear of other people’s judgment, lack of trust in the natural process and fear of letting go – then the person grows up ‘complete’, learning (and able to learn) everything he or she really needs to know. A truly independent learner.

Sure, set good examples. This is the only way I know of teaching (apart from supplying the information or tutoring that’s requested by the child and no more than the amount requested! Another very difficult thing to achieve for most parents and teachers) that’s in any way properly effective. As a species we can’t seem to help mimicking each other. So if I read, my children read. If I grow food, they want to grow food. (This is actually not the case here yet. I live in hope, but suspect there’s some kind of instinctive division of labour system going on.) If I earn lots of money, they probably want to earn lots of money and work out how to do that, and so on.

This learning by example is a very powerful thing, but it doesn’t always manifest in ways that are immediately obvious. For example, my parents and friends’ parents were mostly churchgoers and yet I and my friends are mostly not. And yet we do congregate and eulogise at home ed meetings, which could be seen as similar kinds of gathering places.

When people wonder why it is that some autonomously home educated children grow up to become barristers and others organic farmers, shopkeepers, or unemployed etc – I look at the parents’ occupations and there is usually some pattern of emulation that’s quite easy to spot. So if you want your child to become Prime Minister, first become Prime Minister yourself! (Discuss.. 😉 )

I do see exceptions to this rule: adult children who have broken the mould and gone on to have adult lives that were very different to those modeled to them in childhood, but there are still usually less obvious and yet strong similarities. A factory labourer with a strong work ethic who nevertheless doesn’t find his work particularly fulfilling, produces an office worker son with an equally strong work ethic who nevertheless doesn’t find his work particularly fulfilling, and so on.

And I was the child who was taken to all of the extra-curricular clubs, sessions, groups and lessons, whose every hour was kept busy, for fear of boredom or inadequate parenting.

And yet, I (not necessarily my sister or brother, but I) just wanted to stay at home and be left alone to read, play and dream on my own terms, in my own time, with no externally-imposed schedule. (I live like this now for myself though, whenever possible. And yet.. none of my parents do! Hmm..) (I’ve had a variety of parent-and stepparent-type people in my life, in case you were wondering about my choice of quantitative pronoun there!)

And at least one of my children often requests a schedule from me, though most of the others don’t. So we’re all different, and the best thing, surely, is to work out what each person needs by way of input, and supply that.

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Filed under Curiosity - a delicate flower, ICT, Innate, Natural learning - how it works, Planning - or not, Reading, Strewing

Autonomous learning, what it means for us

Home ed is different for every family. We have friends who follow a set curriculum all morning, every day during the week throughout term time and do nothing else deliberately educational at all. Others insist on an hour or so of set learning, then do other things with the rest of their time. It’s quite common, too, for families to do most of their ‘home education’ out and about with various groups, engaged in planned and themed activities together. Here in West Yorkshire, for example, there’s at least one such event planned for every day of the week by various people and groups of people – some regular, some not. Usually all home educators are welcome.

Royal Armouries

We’ve done some of that, but tend to be more home and family-centred these days. I’ve found, over the years, that my children learn best when I let them take the lead. So we went to The Royal Armouries yesterday, for example. One of the girls had asked to go, so we went. Once there, we split into two groups: an adult for each child. (This is where adult offspring really come in handy!) And we followed the children around the museum, not the other way around. I was with the four year old and amazingly she didn’t just run through the place and out the other side: she actually wanted to know the answers to questions like where things were from, and what was happening here:

He's shooting the tiger.

Going at her pace took some doing – the temptation is for me to see things that I think might interest her and hold her back to point them out, but she stops asking questions if I do that, and I know that questions are vital to her learning. So:

'Wow, swords. What are they for?'

– has me scrabbling to read the plate to her, before she’s off again. She only wants a word or two: she’s only four. We’ll come back again frequently when she’s older, if she wants to. Maybe when she can read the plates for herself.

At home the method/way of life is similar. There’s lots to do here: we’ve amassed quite a collection of stuff over the years and it’s quite well organised and stored in a visible, accessible kind of way. I’ve always liked the Montessori idea of preparing the environment (although ours is not so rigidly structured) and also, I suppose, what unschoolers call strewing (although ours is not so parent-led – I’m just the one who pays for it, transports it home, finds a box and a shelf for it and then usually tidies it away again when it’s finished with! Our children are quite capable of doing their own strewing.)

Last night, for example, the old comic box had an airing:

It surprised me when she wanted to do the thing on this page properly.

And sometimes they want to just bake a cake:

The icing on the cake, groan

Or make pictures:

Houses are the thing ATM

Or look something up on Wikipedia:

..whilst eating a pizza

Or do workbooks:

... whilst kneeling on the dining table.

Or any amount of other things: see friends, phone friends, build things, make things, read things, take things apart and see how they work, ask endless questions, play in the field:

New swing, for the - ahem! - *children*.

The list of possibilities is endless. The point is, I never ask: “What do you want to do now?” because I don’t need to. They work it out themselves, getting ideas from books, friends, family, TV, the Internet, games, or just the environment and the thoughts in their heads. I don’t ban or limit anything: they could play computer games all day if they wanted to, but they never want to. I try not to suggest things, because when I do, they stop being creative and owning their learning.

But I don’t do nothing. I facilitate everything they want to do, never saying ‘no’ to anything if I can help it. I keep the place relatively clean and tidy so that they can be safe and have the clear space they need. I organise my time and money so that they can get what they want, go where they want, do what they want when they want to get, go and do it. I answer every question asked, or help them to find the answer (and the questions never stop, thank goodness!) I read to them a lot. I help them to learn. I will even teach them if they ask me to, though sparingly.

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Filed under Aptitude, Co-operating, Curiosity - a delicate flower, History, ICT, Innate, Letters, Natural learning - how it works, Out an' about, Planning - or not, Reading, Strewing, Writing

Home ed in bed

Plus work. And now blog.

How many boxes have I ticked there?

(Four. Five if you include: feet on hot water bottle 😀 )

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Filed under Business, Co-operating, Curiosity - a delicate flower, Planning - or not, Writing

“Doing Egypt.”

It all started with this book

– which attracted Lyddie’s attention in a shop.

This led to:

Gods on our walls..

Pharoah hat (sorry, *headdress*) on our table...

A trip to the (very good) 'Egypt' section of a local museum...

Finding Egypt on the globe..

Small timelines...

Getting out the old, *big* timeline again (we really must make one of our own)...

More books...

Hieroglyphs...

More 'Egypt' stuff...

And watching old 'Egypt' films.

Finally I’m told: “We’ve done enough Egypt for now.”

So it’s all gone in a box until it’s needed again:

Next up? China, apparently. I’d better get another box, then.

(Most of the pics above should be clickable. Some lead to other sites which explain our sources.)

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Filed under Aptitude, Curiosity - a delicate flower, Egypt, Equipment, History, Out an' about, Planning - or not, Writing

Since my last post here, we’ve been..

(amongst other things)

Tracing snowflakes

Making puppet shows

Climbing

Puzzling

Writing fridge poetry

Welcoming new family members

Practising our handwriting

Ogling the fireplaces in a local stately home

Cycling with skeletons

Doing activity books. 'Pre-school workbooks', they call them. 'Pre-home ed fun books', *I* call them.

And gratefully receiving gifts of books. A whole boxful! Bliss.

We’ve also, this week, been creating maps of our local area – first from memory, then from walking around with a clipboard, then from sloooow driving, and stopping, and reversing, and driving again, then from Google Maps and Street View. Next, we’re comparing the current ones to some we have from 60 years ago, before the M62 was built, to see what’s changed and how. We’re also thinking we’ll do some treasure hunts. An easter egg hunt, with treasure maps!

This all came about because I thought Lyddie’s mind would suit cartography, so I suggested she try to draw a map. She’s always been interested in where she was, and where things were in relation to one another – ever since she could sit up and look around and talk. She has a practical mind which likes to organise things into their proper place and structure.

One of the joys of home education: having the time and the freedom to really get to know one’s own children, work out what they’ll like and – after a bit of trial and error – hit on the right thing and watch them run with it.

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Filed under Aptitude, Curiosity - a delicate flower, Driving, History, Innate, Natural learning - how it works, Out an' about, Planning - or not, Pre-home ed, Writing

Bedtime reading and the history of inventions

The baby and I are currently having sections of this book read to us by Lyddie every evening:

22 Jun 2009 054

It’s not something we could plan for, as Mr Badman seems to think we should be able to.

22 Jun 2009 057

If I tried to insist that she did such a thing, Lyddie would be sure to resist. She’d close the book and we’d never hear any more of it.

But I currently don’t have to insist, so she’s reading – struggling with some words, but making definite progress every evening. She’s even talking about writing out some of the stories because she wants to improve her handwriting skill.

How could I have written this into a plan three, or six, or twelve months ago?

Ditto, her recent obsession with the solar system, or again with the months of the year and the seasons, which led to my scrawling of this chart as I supplied the required lengthy explanation and answered her questions:

22 Jun 2009

In school – or Mr Badman’s vision of home education hell, [opens pdf] she’d have probably been made to sit and colour it in, or learn it by rote to be ready to churn it back out at the next inspection, to order. As it was, she was free to look at it, ask a few questions, understand and move onto the next thing.

She’s been re-watching the Narnia films as well, and the beginning of the first one made her wonder about World War II again, about which she’s been interested for a long time. What were Anderson shelters? How did they work? What happened to them at the end of the war? And we got onto talking about evacuations as well.

We might make it to Eden Camp this year, in support of this recurring interest of hers, although we’ve also recently got into looking at castle times, thanks mostly to this book:

castle

(which allows for endless peering at the tiny people, each doing something interesting in every different room) so a visit to here is still very much on the cards.

The juxtaposition of those two time periods in Lyddie’s mind at the same time gave rise to some extra questions, like:

“How long ago did they build the castles/ have WWII?”

(Explaining the concept of ‘hundreds of years ago’ to a six year-old isn’t easy, is it?)

And:

“Why didn’t they have guns and bombs in castle times? Why did it take them so long to invent such things?”

So we got out another book:

timechart

– which opens out like this:

22 Jun 2009 079

– the relevant parts, I suppose, being this:

22 Jun 2009 083

and this:

22 Jun 2009 084

At least it gave some perspective, and context. Lyddie poured over it for hours and then her brothers joined in and kept pointing out various aspects of it to her.

A massive amount of learning took place in that one relatively short session with the timeline, but I could never have planned for it beforehand in a million years. Lyddie’s older sister, for example, wasn’t interested in such things at all and hardly ever looked at those kinds of books.

How are we supposed to know in advance where our children’s curiosity will lead them?

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Filed under History, Planning - or not, Reading, Seasonal stuff