I am large. I contain multitudes. Children already know this.

The world is vast. It is large.Out there, eternity surrounds us.
These were my thoughts as I gazed into the waters of Lake Simcoe a few weeks ago. In the early morning, the lake was so still I could see fish coming out to feast on the insects that had landed in large numbers over the water.
The fish moved in and out of the weeds and into the sand hollows, disappearing, reappearing, darting here and there.

We called the little children over to see. They gazed intently, whispering with intense voices, marveling at their discoveries, trying to identify what they were witnessing.
My thoughts turned to the aquarium the four year old has back at home with its sole occupant, blue fighter fish, Starbright. The tiny aquarium has nothing organic in it (fish excluded) and only a pink plastic castle and plastic weeds to embellish it.How unnatural!

Aside from the sadness that poor fish must feel, I think of the experience of viewing such a solitary fish in an artificial environment. What does that sort of setup have to do with how fish behave;-what a fish is? How can the paucity of  both this aquarium and of the experience of viewing  serve learning or understanding of what a fish is? Can a fish, without it's natural habitat be a fish? Doesn't it need the habitat to be a fish?

Even when the aquarium is bigger as it is at the public library where children and their parents can see bright coloured tropical fish-again these fish are exhibiting only a fragment of their 'fishness' because they are not interacting with what should be their habitat.

We can argue that the aquarium is better than nothing. But there is  a great deal that is wrong with putting creatures into drastically transformed environments and spaces that they do not belong in and then congratulating ourselves on giving kids a glimpse of  'nature.'

Instead of showing the child the vastness of things, the complexity of interconnectivity that their minds thrive on, we pretend that we know the answers and that the limits are fixed. When of course they are not.

Kids already know this. Instinctively, they seek bigger, wider, taller. (Could this be why so many young children have an attraction to dinosaurs?). 

They seek out the externalization of what they already know about themselves: "I am large. I contain multitudes." (Walt Whitman).

 We give children a sand box to play in when what they should have is the experience of the entire beach..as far as the eye can see. What should be there are the clouds shifting shapes in the great sky overhead; the beginning of rain; the shrieking of  sea gulls; the wind on arms as you dig deeply into the yielding sand newly dampened by the timeless ebb and flow of waves.

 We put children in 'places of learning' when we should be letting them experience the whole spectrum (not only the parts that we carve out for them); when they should be experiencing their world.

You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through
the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
Walt Whitman
1819-1892
Song of Myself

Toronto. Where are your children?

You know your city is a friendly place to live in when you see kids walking about.

I've been going to Toronto fairly often these last few months and it has dawned on me as I walk the crowded streets that there are hardly any children in sight (and it's even summer time!!!).

Toronto. Where are your children?

Maybe it's the location I'm going to-that is,the down-town business district.

But the other day, I was accompanying my sister who had business in the city to attend to and could not bring her two month old baby in the room.

The idea was for me to be in the vicinity with the baby and alert her to when he needed to nurse.
So on boarding the train at Newmarket (near where we were cottaging) heading to Union station in Toronto, we attempted to get the stroller on board. It turned out that the wheels were too wide for the extremely narrow door ( which was divided down the middle by a metal bar).

As we struggled to pull it in, my sister loaded down by her baby and a bag, me with the diaper bag and back-pack, the announcement was made that the train was about to depart. "Just toss it," my sister yelled. "We have to stay on this train." I refused.
While disgruntled morning commuters looked on, or continued reading the paper or doing make up (no one bothering to see if they could help us) I managed to fold it and get it on the train. Clearly, the GO isn't designed for parents with young kids- or maybe there is a secret way to get on that I don't know about.
The other thing I noticed was that people in Toronto hardly glanced at our beautiful bouncing baby which was unbelievable to me-a dotting auntie.

This busy, high energy city while welcoming young, working hotshots has no room for children, As much as I like Toronto I can't feel at home in a place that does not welcome children. What's up with that TO?
How about your city? Is it kid friendly?

Unschooling didn't start with my children. It started with me.

I just realized that I am the original autodidact. Unschooling didn't start with my children. It started with me.

I can recall the first time I ever questioned the opinion of an author. It was an epiphany for me. I was about 13 when I found myself in disagreement with what the writer was arguing (can't even remember what it was).

I was awestruck that I could disagree; that I could challenge the authority of the printed word ("it's printed so it must be true.")

When I understood the power this gave me I got really heady. I was off.The feeling of audacity, of daring that came to me was unequaled in my experience. What else could I challenge? What else didn't I agree with?

But even before this, I was already on my path to self directed learning.

At age 12, having moved from Britain to Africa and determined to go to a French speaking school instead of the anglophone school, I spent all summer studying verbs in my Becherelle-although in the end I did not end up going.
Instead I was made to go to an awful school that I regularly avoided going to.

It was a sketchy affair. I  attended infrequently and unwillingly-being traumatized at the conditions I found there. With well over 70 people per classroom and the classroom at that being nothing more than a mud hut with a corrugated roof and an enormous hole in the wall where the red dust of the dry season swept through. Let's just say that going to the toilet didn't happen too often either-horrifying as it was to my tender British sensibilities!

Instead, I spent a lot of time at home taking care of my baby sister while mother worked.

Suffice it to say that I spent many, many an afternoon pondering about the ways of the world. I read religion trying to find answers there. I studied mathematics and physics and at high school dropped out of organic chemistry failing to understand it . At that point I was expelled for poor attendance.

Not a problem. I was used to doing my own thing anyway. I studied math and my mother hired a tutor to help me with further maths for my 'A Levels.' In short, I think I always have been self directed learner so no surprise that here I am encouraging and promoting self direction for my daughters and for others.
What about you? When did you become an autodidact?

People who love what they do, like to share what they do.

People who love what they do, like to share what they do.
That has been my experience any way. For example, when my family and I were producing our weekly program, we had the great fortune to meet with all kinds of amazing people in our community. These people, whether they were a shoemaker, an anthropologist, a vet, a witch, a potter or what have you-generously shared their knowledge and skills with us.

Most importantly, they imparted their passion and love for what they did.

What a thrill to be taught by people who are really, really in to what they do! The mood is contagious- even if one will never actually follow that same path. The idea that there is a mathematician out there who solves problems by using origami or that if we like, we can take a peek through the telescope of our neighbour, the astronomer and see Jupiter's rings, or that we can help grow veggies with our local urban farmer etc. was enough of an education in itself as far as I am concerned.

They showed us -my family and the friends who came along with us on our excursions- that there is a way to live life that requires effort of course, but that effort stems from love of what you do. Who could ask for better instruction?
I particularly recall the violinist and cellist who came to our home and played a wonderful concerto while we sat open mouthed-in awe of their talent and their humbleness. These amazing sisters could never know how much they inspired my daughter to continue with her violin playing.

I remember the thrill my oldest (who is now a budding poet and author) experienced when she interviewed at age ten, author Gordon Korman-then a favorite writer.


So when you are looking for opportunities in unschooling, keep this idea in mind: immerse yourself around people who are excited about what they are doing. The world will open up to you.