Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Homeschooling: is it hard, is it easy? I think life is hard and homeschool is what you make of it. The burden of homeschool resides in the parent's psyche. If you want to stress over it, there are thousands of ways and I may have tried them all. But the simple truth is, on average, healthy children grow smarter naturally. There are a few things you can do to enrich the process: food, love, consistency, providing a rich environment, trying not to be an arse-hole. Beyond those things, parents and teachers are all flying blind.

Curriculum doesn't matter. In fact, if you spend a lot of time and trouble teaching, the children are most likely to learn lessons you didn't intend. Which shouldn't stop you from teaching if you feel moved to teach. But go gently and keep in mind, it doesn't really matter which things you try to put in them. In other words, all insects are beneficial.

Each child is mysterious, knowledge is infinite, and we have no idea how learning happens. The timeline of institutional education is arbitrary and unnecessary. No one knows the future. And success is a nebulous vague slippery concept at best. If happiness is the best measure of success, teach that. If you simply must teach, Happiness Through Kindness, may be your best shot at a curriculum. At least, its the topic I most need to study.

If a kid wants a formal class, wonderful, let them take it. If its enriching, all the better. If not, dump it. One of the few specific lessons I've taught my kids is to never suffer bad teaching. Hard teachers, yes. Bad teachers, no. Don't waste your time. Move on. Keep moving. There is plenty.

We all want to parent best. Usually, even those of us who are criminally wrong would prefer knowing how to do it right. Unfortunately, humans do not have access to that information. Unless the answer is teaching love. So relax. Let go. Do less. Teach kindness. And pay attention to your specific child without fear. They will show you what they need.

1 comment:

  1. Lovely. Thank you.

    I recently felt this sort of confidence in the face of a sibling who described my children and my family thus: "You're the outer edge of the bell curve, but we try to accommodate you." I felt a tolerant smile of delight sneak up into my lips and almost chuckled as I replied: "Well, my children may be cogs in the machine, but I am not sure that's a bad thing." I walked slowly off to look out at the mountains, where she could not see my face, because I could not stop smiling. I feel quite pleased with this choice of ours, with this culture. It's really quite alright. I suppose, if the bell curve is one's goal, it can be discomforting, yet I am sure she'll survive.

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