Fear traps my body like a vice. Am I doing it wrong? My relaxed, improvised approach to learning, does it count as actual school? Is it possible that my golden haired child is going to be the one kid who ends up at 20, not knowing the short vowel sound for A?
I pondered my fear over the weekend. Then, I decided that unschooling is similar to cooking without a recipe.
I don’t have any natural competence in baking. I’d never attempt to make a pineapple upside down cake without some helpful directions from Betty Crooker. Yet, I know plenty of seasoned cooks, who whip up new recipes with things they have on hand, yummy pasta dishes or new types of cake.
My Mom didn’t sew me a chic apron when I married. She didn’t bequeath me a worn recipe book. The bad Catholic that I am, I still begrudge my Mom the 12 hours a day I spent in day care starting at age six weeks. Yet there was something about hanging out with a master educator for all those years. Like a girl who grew up under a talented cook or working musician, I’ve got the hang of the educational basics. I trust myself. And now I like to throw out the curriculum workbooks and go off road.
It’s about improvisation. It’s like Jazz.
You can learn music in the classical method. Piano lessons. Fingers curved just so. Note value and Every Good Boy Does Fine.
Our you can hand your kid a clarinet and let them blow. You make the music first, and then you fill in the knowledge gaps as you go along.
The second approach is more rare, more unconventional. But for those of us allergic to routine, playing real tunes on the clarinet as we master our notes is a far faster way to get to adore the difficult trills of Mozart than years spent dutifully learning our scales.
I’m glad this tension between teaching with a curriculum and teaching through unschooling exists. It reminds me clearly that we are all one body in Christ. No matter what, I have less in common with secular families who mimic my preferred teaching style. I need time with my Catholic home-schooling friends to recharge my spiritual batteries. They keep me focused on my most important task, helping my spouse and children reach heaven.
Beside, all that time with her Catholic friends is good for my daughter. Maybe, one day one of the younger kids will teacher her how to spell J-E-S-U-S.