In a Hurry?

Parents: "Kids want to grow up so fast! Why don't they just enjoy their childhoods?"

Parents, also:

In so many ways, we give our kids the impression that they're not fully people; they're people in training. But do you remember being a kid? Did you feel like an actually-fledged human being? 

I think we do this with really good intentions. We know our time with our kids is limited, and we want to "prepare" them to release them out into the world as responsible, equipped adults.

However, I'm afraid this often leads to our making long-sighted parenting choices when short-sighted ones would actually be better. For instance: If my kid's room is a mess, maybe it's just that they don't have the energy to clean it this moment, or even today... and it doesn't have to mean that OMG, they're going to grow up without any self-discipline and their house will be overtaken by roaches, and they'll get evicted and therefore I'm turning off the wifi until the room is clean, dang it.

Kids see this. So much that they know, as they get older, that even their education isn't important in this moment. Otherwise, why would they ask, infamously about algebra, "When am I ever going to use this in the future?"

How often has a kid, discouraged with an extra-curricular lesson or activity, been encouraged to keep going because, "Someday you'll wish you'd mastered *this* so you can do *this other thing.*" 

Do you know when I've learned the things I've needed to know as an adult, for the most part? Exactly when I needed to know them.

This might surprise you, but I never learned a darn thing about real estate until I had to "learn" it to take a test. And even then, I didn't *actually* learn it until I was working in the field. Same with insurance. And video production. And script-writing. And parenting. Yeah, pretty much all of it.

And I have a theory about why family vacations are so much fun for our kids (other than the splurging in terms of fun and money throwing-around and whatnot): When we're on vacation, we are in the moment with them. We're not planning for the next thing. We're enjoying the thing we're doing right then and right there.

What if we lived like that all of the time? Or most of the time? Or at least some of the time?

Maybe our kids would be more content being children if we let them know they're important *now.* They can do things in this day that have value. We don't always have to be projecting them into the future.

Nichole Nordeman tells a story of how she had volunteered to play a song at one of her kids' school events, and as the day approached, she hadn't prepared anything. Then this following song came to her. And although the song is directed toward the children, she said that, of course, the encouragement to "slow down" is actually for the parents. I'm trying. 

A No-Longer-Foregone Conclusion

A friend of mine had posted something on social media about how expensive child care is, sharing an article about how it costs more than college tuition (not this article, but this one has a lot of information that's interesting and crazy). After several people commiserated about it, including that high child care costs are why they don't have a second child, someone else popped in with "That's why everyone should get a college degree" or something to that extent.

What I thought was, "Seriously?! That's elitist BS." What I said was something about how my husband who does not have a college degree has exponentially more earning power than I do, and she congratulated me but she wants her kids to go to college, blah blah life experience and mind expanding, goal, complete something big, yadda yadda.

Many of you know that my ideas about education, and specifically institutionalized education, are far from mainstream. Mike Rowe has actually done a lot to move this conversation into the forefront, with lots of practical information and research to back up what I've intuited for years. (By the way, bookmark that page. There's a ton of good stuff on there.)

I distinctly remember having the "life experience" conversation with another homeschool mom when D was very young, maybe even preschool-aged. Our family paradigm is not "school, college, career." I am sure some people genuinely have transformative experiences in college, but is that the only way to have those experiences? I'm almost certain that if you gave a 20-year-old as much money (or had them work to earn it, whatever you're planning to do for your kid's schooling) as a year in college would cost and told them to pick a foreign country and go live there, travel, meet people, learn the language, they'd grow even more than they would in classes at a university.

Kids coming out of their teens and into their young adult lives are like butterflies emerging from a chrysalis (note: I just realized a couple of weeks ago that "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" is not biologically correct, as it refers to a "cocoon," which is a moth home, not a butterfly one), so I don't think the college setting is magical. I think it's the age and the being away from home.

Here's the thing: I'm not anti-college! It's super important to get a degree if you're going to be a teacher or lawyer or doctor or any of those things that you have to study very specific coursework, especially as a foundation for more difficult coursework in graduate or law or medical school or whatever. For me, I have a theater degree, and, gosh, I had some good times, but I could have learned the exact same things volunteering with a robust community theater.

But here's where I bristle at a lot of the ideas about college, degrees, and "getting a better job": If you look up online, "Is a college degree worth it?" the main answers you're going to see are in terms of salaries. They compare salaries among the same jobs for people who have a college degree and who don't. Or jobs people without a college degree "can" get compared to ones that have the degree as a requirement. This whole system makes some assumptions that make me uncomfortable because they're limiting and, again, elitist.

There is this thought process that goes: school, pick a potential career/major, go to college, graduate, more school and/or get a job and start making a living. Like this is how life is meant to work. Like this is how life has always worked.

Do you know when I think my husband had the most fun and really enjoyed himself and freedom? When he was living in his car in the Seattle area. He'd do day labor when he wanted to and needed or wanted money, but if he didn't want to work, he didn't. He had a dog. He had friends. When we visited a couple of years ago, I saw some genuine nostalgia there.

According to articles and numbers, his story would be a sad one. Homeless (although his "homelessness" was not the same genre as the forced homelessness that's often fueled by mental illness or drug dependency; it was voluntary). Day labor. Not much money. Dang it. He should have gone to college.

This spin presumes that a high salary is the arbiter of happiness.

Now, let me say that I understand there is a difference between having tight margins and between the genuine struggle and inability to make ends meet. So I'm not trying to minimize the troubles some people have.

However, having "more money" versus "a little less money" might not matter to some people. Might not matter to a lot of people.

One of James' friends (maybe an old girlfriend?) told him that a college degree was important because it proved you can jump through the necessary hoops. Ugh. I can't even talk about that.

There are some thoughts I love in this summary of a survey of grown unschoolers. Namely this one: "The great majority of respondents were gainfully employed at the time of the survey.  Exceptions were some of the full-time students and some mothers with young children.  Of those who responded to the follow-up questionnaire, 78% said they were financially self-sufficient, though a number of these added that their income was modest and they were financially independent in part because of their frugal lifestyle.  Several of them described frugality as a value and said they would far rather do work they enjoyed and found meaningful than other work that would be more lucrative."

Is there room for discussing job/life satisfaction as we ponder the "necessity" of a college education?

I'm one of those "college educated" people who is considered a "short termer" in the job market, as I have mostly stayed home. I get paid nothing, and I absolutely love what I'm doing (though I would like it even more if it included more sleep).

I'm not even talking about education inflation or the high level of student loan debt from undergraduate degrees alone, the fact that a degree does NOT guarantee a job like it used to, or the reality that when it came time for me to be professionally credentialed (as a Real Estate Agent, and then later as an Insurance Agent), I had to learn everything I needed to know on my own. Nothing relevant to any job I've ever had was present in my college education.

I just wish people could break out of the kindergarten-to-job-track mindset. There are so many viable options today: military, Job/Peace Corps, starting a job as a teen and working your way up (seriously; in retail and food service, there is a lot of turn-over, and advancement opportunities for someone showing up and kicking butt are plentiful), creating your own job (teaching tennis or walking dogs or mobile auto detailing), opening an Etsy shop or a Patreon account or something like that (yeah, maybe not a living wage, but it also might be), trade school, apprenticeships, etc.

There's room for all sorts of opportunities.

Along with the "school, school, school, school, job" paradigm is a very "standard" life that includes having a fairly nice house where you can be proud to entertain and have plenty of room to spread out. That's cool if it's what you want because it's really what you want (not just your conditioning), but it's not necessary.

When I was a single parent, my daughter and I lived in an RV because doing that was both how I met some priorities I had, but also because it had always been a dream of mine. Except that it got very hot and very cold (lesson learned: get all-weather insulation if you're going to full-time it), I loved living there. It took 5 minutes to clean, we spent lots of time together, there was no yard work, and I'd live in an RV with my family right this moment if it weren't for the fact that a certain teenager and a certain introverted husband would lose their stuffin' from the lack of private space.

However, when D and I lived there, we never felt cramped. You know what else? I never once felt self-conscious. I had people over, we had dinners and game days and D had sleep-overs. Everyone (except for one person, and, whatever) thought it was so cool. D's dad was worried about the "stigma" associated with living in an RV, but I think her friends all left saying they wished they could live in a camper.

This is kind of along the lines of the unschooling survey: frugality (even to what most people would think is to the extreme) leads to not necessarily having to have the highest-paying jobs. It's all a matter of what makes a person happy, and if they can be happy working 37 hours a week at Sam's Club to facilitate not having to take work home, and being truly free on their off time, then good for them.

Feeling like the folks who "flip burgers" or clean the restrooms at the fair or dig ditches are somehow inferior or more pathetic or probably not as happy is what I meant by elitist BS.

A photographer I follow on Instagram really hated his M-F 8-7 life and wanted to be as happy as he was taking pictures on weekends. So he quit his job, lived in his Subaru, and visited state and National Parks. He recently bought a really nice camper van (one of those that looks like a van on the outside and can park in a regular parking space, similar to this, but not exactly like it... also: droool). He is not in the "high-paying job" category anymore, but he is happy. He is free.

I could go on with the anecdotes for a long time, but just wanted to dangle this out there, in case anyone cares. College is great when necessary, and there is tons that can be done to mitigate the cost. But just the idea of "you have to get a college education to get a good job" needs to go away. We need to ask the question, "What do I (or my kids) need to do to have a good life?"

Clearview Sudbury School

In reading some articles about "unschooling," I came across blog posts on Psychology Today's website written by Peter Gray. Through those, I came upon a list of "alternative" schools in the Austin area, and was specifically drawn to the Clearview Sudbury School, a democratic school just a few miles away.

I checked out Dr. Gray's book "Free to Learn" from the library, and James read some of it before I had to turn it back in. By the time I was finished, I was sold on the Sudbury School model, and James was extremely interested. For this reason, even though my 12-year-old (almost 13) is not interested in going to school, James and I attended an open house/information session at the school a couple of weekends ago.



Alternative Education in Action from Clearview Sudbury on Vimeo.

We really liked the campus, and absolutely adore the learning model. The way I see it, it is everything we remember loving about school (recess, lunch, hanging out with friends) and none of the bull.

For instance: When I was in high school, the last semester of my senior year, it was compulsory for me to take physical education. Well, it was 1990 and my hair (especially the bangs) took at least an hour to dry and fix after a shower, so I wasn't about get icky enough to need to clean up because I had about 12 minutes to change and get to my next class when we were finished. Instead, I'd either stand on the volleyball court and do nothing or I'd just sit on the bleachers. At some point, it hit me that I was wasting my time, and I asked the coach permission to go to the lab and work on my computer science project. She told me that if I didn't stay for class, I'd get an incomplete grade. So my choices were: Show up, don't participate, waste an hour, and get an A; or do something productive that I wanted to do and end up with a C as a final PE grade (and who gets a C in PE? Answer: I did).

The Sudbury model is based on the idea that given the time and resources and left to their own devices, students (in this case, particularly, kids) will learn what they need to know. Yes, including how to read and how to math and all of those things that are necessary to live a functional life in our society.

There is a lot of information to be gleaned on the Sudbury Valley School's YouTube channel, including interviews with graduates and some insight into what goes on in the school on a daily basis. The channel is for the original Sudbury school, but the methods are pretty uniform across the board.

The schools are democratic, meaning that every attendee and staff member gets exactly one vote on items concerning the school, such as which rules to implement, and how to spend money, and which staff to keep on board for the next school year (that's right; each staff is hired for one year and has to be approved by a majority of votes to be kept on).

There are no compulsory studies, though staff will facilitate and/or arrange for classes based on student request and interest. What is mandatory, however, is participation in the daily (as needed, which is typically every day) Judicial Committee meeting. This is where complaints and issues are addressed and consequences are decided upon by the entirety of the school. If an older student wanted to use the kitchen but a younger student hadn't cleaned up his/her mess and did not respond to the older student's request to clean it, then they both show up to present their sides of the matter and the committee hands down a decision.

There is also a weekly school meeting which can be attended by all students and staff that decides things like what insurance to buy, where to appropriate funds, and more intense matters referred by the Judicial Committee (like whether or not to suspend a student).

The students are not separated by age. They're not separated at all, except as they choose. Unless requested by the student, they're never formally evaluated. In other words, there's no comparison to what is considered normative for, say, all 12-year-olds. They're not expected to learn/perform for tests/teachers. They're expected to be responsible for themselves, to make decisions, and to live with the ramifications of those decisions.

After the tour, we were given some paperwork and a wonderful little book called "Like Water" by Mark McCaig. The book is a collection of stories, poems, and essays about Fairhaven, a Sudbury model school in Maryland.

My favorite handout we received was this delightful comparison of the Sudbury model to Montessori, Waldorf, unschooling, etc: "Okay, so you're sort of like..."  One of the contrasts to homeschooling that it contained really struck me: "Children and parents have complex relationships and interdependencies which make it harder for children to discover true independence within the family. In the environment of a Sudbury school, children face direct personal responsibility for their actions, without the emotional baggage that family-based accountability can sometimes carry. In addition, children are more able to develop some important social skills in a democratic school — the ability to tolerate diversity of opinion, to speak out against inappropriate behavior, and to develop and carry out group projects, for example."

My favorite chapter from the book was a stream-of-consciousness piece celebrating ten years of the Fairhaven school, and containing the longest and most beautiful run-on sentences I've ever read, reproduced entirely here:

"When the school's neighbor who owns the soybean field across the stream told me a nudist colony used to occupy this hilltop campus, I thought, of course it did. Freedom runs deep here at Fairhaven -- nowadays people can go barefoot, but not naked; people can talk about sex and drugs and rock and roll, but not do them; well, except for the rock and roll, and I'm cool with that, just ask Robert, or Matt, but some days I feel like Uncle Billy in 'It's a Wonderful Life,' and I've dropped 8 grand in mean old Mr. Potter's lap and he's just waiting for the bank to shut us down, then five o'clock rolls around and we're still here, and little Sunshine and I have just buried her dragonfly after trying to revive it in the sun, and she's asked it to say hello to her cat Lucky, in heaven, and aside from the dragonfly, at day's end nobody's hurt - well, not too bad - and nobody's sued us, and they all do learn to read, and much more, actually, our students are ethical, bright, shining gifts to the world, just talk to them, because now they're coming back to visit as grown-ups, with shoes on their feet, though they might kick them off when they're here, and, like I said, it's five o'clock and my colleagues and I are dancing around the office like George Bailey and Uncle Billy after the bank run and we're holding up our two dollar bills and kissing them cause we're still open, dammit, and the next morning we'll be here and the morning after that and the morning after that and now I'm unlocking the door and it hits me that it's been ten years of dollar bill dances and pristine openings just like the very first morning, ten years of holding miracle water in our hands, water that never disappears, cool water that's clear but if you drink you taste the clay and the greensand, you taste the salt and maybe just the slightest hint, I swear to you, of chocolate.
"So I'm leaning on a porch rail explaining to Ricky that only dictators erect solid gold statues to themselves, therefore, no, I won't be supporting his motion at School Meeting, when I smell the sugar cookies baking and two girls run by saying the Kitchen Corp's taking IOUs and lord almighty what's that sound? It's the echo of billions of footsteps taken in liberty, and I know it's over a billion because Diana has counted hers today and she pokes her head out from the back seat of the red coupe on the way home and says one thousand, five hundred sixty-seven, and I know we'll extrapolate Monday. That's when I decide, Sunshine, that the ghost of Lucky the cat must sometimes leave heaven to join the ghosts of nudists prowling this very campus, that Lucky must rub up against our legs, keeping us open these ten years, and it has never mattered what they do, just that they do it, from Alex's juggling to Chloe's drumming, and you've never seen people who stand so straight up, so true, as these students, never perfect, always perfectly who they are, and that, my friends, is what I'm talking about, this is what we're celebrating, this little haven of big ideas, this is what I appreciate, all of you who've trusted us, who have trusted your children, all you students who have believed in yourselves, you barefooters who will soon commence your tenth season of chasing windblown leaves, yellow and red, who create for me all these days of wide-eyed amazement, and, yes, rock and roll, who spark these incandescent mornings, you brave pioneers who have given me this daily buzz of ten thousand dragonfly moments."

Who wouldn't want that? I mean, I'd love it for me, but since I'm not the demographic, I'd adore it for my daughter.

Here in Austin, the Clearview campus is actually at a church, and located strategically next to a park. It is also across the (very busy) street from Mueller Park and everything new that's being built over there, like the Thinkery (children's museum), a food trailer park, and a bunch of shops. Parents can elect to permit their kids closed campus, extended campus (which includes the parking lot and the adjacent park) or open campus permissions. One of the staff said that lots of students use the open campus option to walk to Starbucks during the day.

In fact, the house that James and I looked at (the one that's still pre-market, marked below with a green oval) is just as convenient to the campus as Mueller.

If you're ready for more information, there are four upcoming opportunities to attend informational meetings; two this month, and two in October. Also, you can contact the school to schedule a visitation day. More is available on their website (click below).

Even if it turns out that my daughter never wants to attend school here, I'm pretty sure we'll end up enrolling the soon-to-arrive kidlet as soon as that's an option. I'm so glad I stumbled upon this information and so grateful to know such a place exists. Check it out!