October 16, 2012

When I sit down to write, it seems as if time goes into suspension. I’m unaware of my next obligation, of the dogs gnawing their bones beside me, of the hum of the refrigerator. I forget about my last argument with my mother (unless, of course, I’m writing about it), about what’s for dinner, my next lecture. I am in my creative bubble.

I’ve written since I could hold a crayon. Writing was my original method for being in the moment, experiencing prayer, learning. As I’ve grown into adulthood and have come to rely on writing for part of a livelihood that is generated through the balance of approximately 10 different enterprises, I’ve developed techniques for creating that bubble every time I sit down at my keyboard: I rise when everyone is still asleep, I do not listen to music, I do not check email, the ringer on the phone is turned to off, the door to the rest of the house is closed.

Building a creative bubble is as essential to the craft of writing as learning where to place a comma. Yet I always assumed it was a luxury and a discipline essential only for my morning office time. It took me 8 years of parenting to realize that this skill was necessary throughout my whole day to ensure a good quality of life and a creative learning environment for my children.

I was originally a big believer in unschooling my daughters, a method of education that doesn’t draw upon a specific curriculum, that allows children to self-direct through their learning process. It proved mostly unsuccessful in our family. But looking back at our failures, I am no longer certain that the philosophy of education itself was to blame. Rather, it was how we implemented it. “Unschooling” my children came to mean allowing them to do whatever they wanted while I answered phone calls, worked on the computer, canned vegetables, pulled weeds, made soap and did phone interviews.

We had what appeared to be a happy home, but Bob and I eventually observed that we were not growing in our creativity. Saoirse had learned to read, but she wasn’t skilled at writing (We won’t even begin discussing her math skills.). We had instruments to bang on and blow through, but nobody was learning to play them. Bob and I were muddling through our days with our home-centered enterprises, but we were not learning new skills. He rarely picked up his guitar. I hardly sang or played my penny whistle. I had worked at knitting the same sweater for seven years with no progress. The sewing machine I’d purchased while pregnant for Ula was gathering dust. I struggled to write one or two essays per month.

It was Saoirse’s lack of academic progress that first set off our alarm bells. We ordered a boxed curriculum and worked with it all last year. In order to get through it, I began shutting off the phone on the side of the house where we were studying. I didn’t want to break my concentration while teaching her. After a while I stopped checking my emails, too. Then, I started using the delay bake feature on my oven, or my slow cooker, so that I didn’t have to get lunch ready during lessons, either. I was crafting the creative bubble for my children. And in doing so, I was making myself fully available to them, as a parent, a friend, and a teacher.
I see now that this is where Bob and I failed in our earlier attempts at unschooling. It wasn’t the educational philosophy that fell short. It was the parenting. By allowing our life to be perpetually assaulted by the outside world, our kids weren’t “learning naturally.” They were just figuring out how to amuse themselves while Mommy and Daddy did something else and didn’t pay attention to them.

I experienced some misgivings when I first started constructing the creative bubble for my homeschool space. I felt as though I would crumble under the new time pressure. I worried that, by creating this space for my kids and entering into it myself, I’d fall behind. This new practice was going to cost me my productivity. If I couldn’t multi-task while educating my children, how the hell would I get everything else done?

It has been just the opposite. By having my complete, full attention for a few hours every morning, Saoirse and Ula seem more settled and contented. When school finishes, they are more willing to let me tackle my other “to do” items while they play independently. I am forced to condense my computer/desk/phone time to a few pre-dawn hours, one visit at midday and one visit in the late afternoon. And I seem to be doing more writing than ever. We’re playing more music in our house. I’ve knit 3 sweaters and two pairs of socks in the last nine months, in addition to sewing six pairs of pants and two shirts for the kids, and keeping up with mending and alterations. We’re learning new things all the time — wet and dry felting, dyeing wool, braiding rugs, playing new instruments, learning new songs. We’ve helped with community organizing efforts and kept up with our farm duties.

We haven’t got it all mastered. There are still periods of extreme chaos, feeling like we’ve taken on too much, and desperately absurd episodes of email-checking-while-facebooking-while-listening-to-voicemails-while-re-tweeting-while- making-lunch-while-making soap–while-telling-the-kids –to-do-their-school work. But there are far fewer of these episodes than before.

This life we’ve chosen is, admittedly, an experiment. We are trying to strike a balance between taking the best advantage of digital technology, and creating a space for us to live in harmony with the natural world by drawing upon age-old traditions. As we gain more experience negotiating this path, we are learning how to do things better. And suspending time by shutting out the digital world, closing out distractions and focusing on the task at hand – whether it is teaching math, giving a music lesson, packing meats for the farmers market, reading bedtime stories or researching the next book, has not slowed us down. Instead, it has lent depth to our lives, enabling us to take deeper pleasure in each facet of our day, while still managing to get things done.

Comments
October 16, 2012 8:49 AM EDT
Unschooling is about the creative moment and you are right. One needs to be present in the moment. It’s more about one’s state of mind instead of the tools/curriculum.When I am doing that the wonder of the world opens up.
– Becky
October 16, 2012 8:53 AM EDT
I like that. I started using the timer. This way I am not going about my day separately from her. When the timer goes off it is connect time. Or disconnect. We work 45 mins break 15 mins. One hour for lunch. It is working much better for us. My tendency is to get absorbed in what I’m doing and neglecting her. This way we have check points and unwind points. I still haven’t figured out the time to write. I mean really write but I’ll figure it out.
– Hanna
October 16, 2012 9:29 AM EDT
This is an interesting topic which I hope ignites further discussion in the homeschool community! My parent’s educational philosophy was unschooling (I am now 35 years old – a trailblazer, I guess!). I now homeschool my own children, but instead of unschooling, I chose more of a Charlotte Mason approach, and it works wonderfully for us. I see huge benefits in my children, whereas I am still feeling the negative effects of unschooling in my own life. For example, I cannot do any mathematics beyond long division, I do not understand many grammar rules, I don’t know anything about chemistry, I never learned any foreign language, I underestimated the importance of college, and for many years I have struggled with a prideful attitude of “nobody can tell me what to do,” which kept me from being able to learn and glean from the wisdom of others (not to mention made me a really bad friend). And yes – I’m well aware that all these things can be learned now in my adult life, but it is harder and difficult to find the time.

I would encourage other unschooling parents to do as you have done, and take a good realistic stock of where their children are, and make modifications to ensure we don’t get off-balance with the unschooling philosophy. Good for you, and thanks for your post.
– Anne
October 16, 2012 9:49 AM EDT
Thanks for the wonderful post. Having homeschooled for 16 years now, I identify with the “keeping themselves entertained phenomenon.” When my eldest entered college 4 years ago, I realized that unschooling was more laziness on my part. We are still finding a balance between “schoolwork” and Lego play time, but my two boys are getting more mommy time now. 🙂
– Sarah
October 16, 2012 10:13 AM EDT
Tomorrow is my first day of home schooling / unschooling (I am not yet sure what to call what we will be doing) and I love your article. By writing this, you’ve helped my family as we plan how we will proceed. Thank you!
– Janet
October 16, 2012 11:08 AM EDT
I love your description of the creative bubble. This is actually something I’m learning FROM my children. They are wonderfully self-directed learners. I see how they tune out distractions, focus on their passions, and push themselves toward mastery. (Okay, with plenty of time for fooling around tossed in.) I’m the multi-tasking distracted one constantly chiding myself for not living more mindfully. I’m working my way toward allowing myself to sink into writing, or cooking, or gardening, or conversation without doing (or thinking about doing) several other things simultaneously. Homeschooling, for us, has never been entirely of the unschooling variety. But it has been an education for me in living within and honoring all sorts of different creative bubbles.
– Laura Grace Weldon
October 16, 2012 9:41 PM EDT
Brilliant observations! I wish more parents took the time to pay that much attention to how we do what we do
– Kate