"Knowing nothing" is impossible

Q: What if your child (like mine) has an interest in one area (Civil War), yet hardly reads about it and never shows an interest in other historical periods (mine does, luckily)?

A: Videos. Novels. Ignore the periods he doesn't care about. He'll care later, or he won't, and the world will still turn, and he can learn what he wants WHEN he wants. History is NEVER all learned. It's all relative. "Knowing nothing" is impossible in this culture.

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I answered that question when the internet was new. Now, period photos, recordings of music, maps, and videos of battleground tours are available without leaving home. Web searches will bring explanations of gatling guns and cannons, medical advancements (nursing, sanitation), pensions for veterans and other innovations of those days.

SandraDodd.com/reassurance
photo by Holly Dodd

Artifacts

I have seen toys, in museums, just like things I played with as a child in the 1950s and 60s, and that my children played with in the 1980s and 90s.

History is happening all around and through us.


Seeing things from the past can trigger stories that might never have been told without the presence of those artifacts. I missed the days of radio dramas and serials. By the time I was listening to radio, it was all music. The stories had moved to the TV. All of my older relatives had radio stories—of war news, comedy routines, inspiring speeches and of mystery stories presented in several voices, and with sound effects.

We still want stories, news, humor and inspiration, but the sources change, and will change some more.

Antiques elsewhere here
photo by Sandra Dodd

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I wrote this four days ago (what's above). Three days ago, I started listening to So, Anyway...: A Memoir by John Cleese (read by the author, who is best known as a member of Monty Python). He has talked about radio shows four times in eight chapters, telling stories of his childhood memories, and of radio producers who seemed to think, when television was new, that TV would not supplant radio programs.

Knowing this post was ready to go made those stories seem like magical coincidence to me. Jung called those coincidences "synchronicity."

Really very peaceful

Sandra, March 2008:

All my kids have TVs in their rooms. No... Holly took hers out when the VHS player broke, and it's in a corner in the front room now, unused. She has a computer. So do the other two kids, just since last year for the younger two.

Hours, whole days go by with those rooms quiet, with one of the kids in there drawing or listening to music at the most, or playing with lego while a familiar movie is on, and they'll look up at their favorite parts, maybe.

Our house is really very peaceful. A house full of "no" can't begin to be this peaceful.


Principles of Unschooling?
photo by Holly Dodd, with a timer and then photoshop
(sitting at my computer, not hers, that day)

Seeing the magic and the joy

Unschooling is living a rich life and letting learning drop into your lap and into your ears and mind while you laugh and listen to music and play games. Unschooling is seeing the magic in every day, and the joy in yourself and the people around you.

Unschooling and other Marvels, by Sandra Dodd
photo by Cátia Maciel

Helping them share

The problem I see with measured turns is that the quality of game play is compromised. If someone sees the clock and that's when they have to stop, they won't play as thoughtfully. They're less likely to look around at the art or appreciate the music. If they're starting to read, they're less likely to take a moment to look at the text and see if they can tell what it says.

The benefits of game play will not come to full fruition if kids' time is measured that way, and they're not learning to share.

If they only have an hour, they will take ALL of that hour, just as kids whose TV time is limited will.

It they can play as long as they want to, they might play for five or ten minutes and be done.

SandraDodd.com/sharing
photo by Sarah S.

Don't be schooly or schoolish.

Paul McCartney was doing okay musically without knowing musical notation.

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I would hate to even start to imagine how many potential musicians just turned away from the idea of singing or playing instruments because they were pressed to learn music theory and notation at a young age.

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They can just learn. That’s what unschooling is about.

Take away the school, the school language and practices and expectations.

And all that’s left is the learning.

Don’t be schooly or schoolish.

Be UN schoolish.

Chat with Sandra Dodd on Mommy Chats, 4/25/07
photo by Marty Dodd, of a jack-o-lantern he started, and let squirrels finish

Living lightly and musically

from a chat on Musical Intelligence:

Howard Gardner sorted out the areas in which one individual might be GREAT, quick, but other people are slower, less interested. And he objects to "intelligence" being measured with just math and verbal ability.

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Encourage your kids to play with music in all kinds of ways. They're learning and growing. Help them turn the scary music off, if they're scared. Encourage them to appreciate other people's artistry.

Live lightly and musically. And if you have a kid who doesn't seem very musical, don't worry a bit.

Musical Intelligence (chat transcript)
photo by Sandra Dodd

In a drop of water

Universe-in-a-Drop-of-Water Method:

Can one intense interest come to represent or lead to all others? A mom once complained that her son was interested in nothing but World War II. There are college professors and historians who are interested in nothing but World War II. It can become a life’s work. But even a passing interest can touch just about everything—geography, politics, the history and current events of Europe and parts of the Pacific, social history of the 20th century in the United States, military technology, tactics, recruitment and propaganda, poster art/production/distribution, advances in communications, transport of troops and food and supplies, espionage, prejudices, interment camps, segregation, patriotism, music, uniforms, insignia, religion....

from "Disposable Checklists for Unschoolers"
photo by Roya Dedeaux

"Playing computer"

When someone wrote "I do worry about my boys playing computer all day," I responded:

I have three kids who have played hundreds of games among and between them—Holly learned two new card games just this month that nobody else in the family knows, even her dad who has been a big games guy all his life. There is no game called "computer." I think you mean playing ON the computer. HUGE difference.

We have dozens of nice board games here, and table games (games involving cards or other pieces, to be laid out on a table as play proceeds), but those aren't referred to as kids playing board, or kids playing table. The computer is not itself the game. There are games on the computer. There is information on the computer. It's not really a net. It's not really a web. It's millions of ideas, words, jokes, pictures, games, a ton of music and videos and.... But you know that, right?

Clarity can begin with being careful with the words you use. Thinking about what you write will help you think about what you think!!

Sandra

(halfway down this brief page)

Thanks to Marcia Simonds for sharing that quote years back.
photo by Sandra Dodd, of my kids
playing Zoombinis in 1999

"I feel it in my fingers..."

Karen James, on math:

I took the leap and we began homeschooling, with me trusting that like walking, talking, reading, writing, and all the other things he had managed to learn through his play and exploration and with our active support, he would come to have a meaningful understanding of math too. When I came to a greater understanding of unschooling, I suspected we had not made a error in judgement. As I have watched Ethan's relationship with math grow and deepen, I knew we had not.

What I didn't realize when I was worrying about how to bring math to Ethan, was that Ethan had already found math. He found it on his fingers. He found it in the seeds of an apple I had cut open. He found it in the peas spread over the tray on his high chair. He found it in every repeated drop of his cup or spoon. He found it in the music we listened to. He found it in the timing between jumps on his jolly jumper. He found it in the balance he needed to take the next step. He found it in the distance between steps. It was everywhere already, and he was already finding the art in it. I just needed to stop my worrying and start having fun.

So I have.

—Karen James

SandraDodd.com/math/found
photo by Belinda Dutch

The title isn't from the quote, it's from a 1967 Troggs song.


In 2023, Ethan James is newly grown up and working at a video game company, at least for a while.

Lyrical magic...

Nurture your own curiosity and amazement. Let life be marvelous. Let nature and music be bigger than you are, and find gratitude in being able to be in the presence of the lyrical magic of the everyday world.

What will help wonder return to you? Pay closer attention to young children. See what they're seeing. Think about what they're asking. Wonder at what they wonder.


SandraDodd.com/wonder
(quote from 279 or 322 of Big Book of Unschooling)
photo by Sarah S.

Zippy, slow, zippy...

If your child is having a slow week or month or year, don't worry. If your child is having a zippy brilliant period of life where everything's coming up roses and the backswell of music seems always to accompany his glorious exploits, don't expect that to last day in and day out for sixty years. It won't. It can't. It shouldn't. People need to recuperate from stunning performances.

Life is lumpy; let it be.

SandraDodd.com/learningcurve
photo by Jo Isaac

Simple but gigantic

One of the best first steps a family can take toward moving a giant step toward being more positive is to note and back off about anyone or anything they've called "dumb" or "stupid."

It's simple but gigantic.

If things (music, ideas, jokes) are allowed the dignity of being potentially accepted as perhaps good in someone's estimation, lights come on all over that world.

Sandra, on Always Learning, in 2008
photo by Holly Dodd

Compassion for passions

Kelly Lovejoy, on the thoughts that help parents to deschool:

What are your passions? HOW did you learn to do those things? In a classroom?

Two of my passions as a child were dogs and horses. Dogs and horses are NOT taught in any grade, middle, or high school *I* know of. But I wanted to learn everything I could about them. My parents gave me dogs and horses. They bought me books and paid for me to take riding lessons and dog obedience classes. They paid for dog and horse shows and equipment. My passion threw me into reading every book I could find (there were no videos back then—nor "Animal Planet").

By twelve I could identify every breed of dog and horse that I had ever seen or read about and tell you how it was developed, where, why, and by whom. I spent every weekend and every afternoon at a dog show/horse show/event/trial or just hanging around the stable or kennel. I asked thousands of questions and "got my hands dirty." Many of my friends were adults with the same passions. Training, breeding, grooming, showing, husbandry—all of these things I learned because I was consumed by them!

But, of course, dogs and horses are NOT school subjects—and are completely unimportant in the school world. What if I had waited for a teacher to come along and say, "Today we are learning all about dog and horses"? Not only would I have waited all my life, the teacher would only have given me a "taste" of the subject!

OH! And you *can't* make a living with dogs and horses—right?

Stage one is often referred to as DEschooling. It's the period of time we need to give ourselves in order to "step away from the box" of school and school-think. Ask yourself why and how you learned your passion: whether it was music, cooking, flying, gardening, or long-distance running. Or even more "academic-like" passions, like Shakespeare, chemistry, World War II, or a foreign language. When you are comfortable with how learning happens by indulging in passions and making connections in your learning, you are quickly heading towards stage two.

—Kelly Lovejoy

from "Stages of Unschooling"
SandraDodd.com/kellylovejoy/stages
photo by Cathy Koetsier

"Mindset"

"Mindset" is an odd word, and not an old one.

If I've been listening to, talking about, singing or playing music for a few hours or days, I think in music more than usual.

When a long conversation about politics occurs, I might dream about those things. My brain needs to shake itself loose and re-set.

Twice this week I have played a card game called "Blink" with young grandkids, two different sets of them. With no numerals or words, cards are played to match by number, color, or shape.

When I was looking for a photo for Just Add Light, I saw this one and thought One; black; bird. Round; red.

It reminded me sweetly of four children who are, this week, five, four, three and two years old.

If mindsets can be affected and changed, try to lean toward music and laughter when you have the option.

SandraDodd.com/positivity
photo by Sandra Dodd

Joyfully detoxing

Paula L / "Paulapalooza" wrote:

Okay, not all days will leave us feeling as if we are Julie Andrews spinning around on that mountain top singing "The Sound of Music," but so many of my days leave me with just that feeling. . . . .

I WILL NOT GIVE UP THIS KIND OF LIFE. 😊

You know, I spent a good 30 of my 35 years in some type of structured setting, striving to please others and live up to their standards, which I convinced myself were my own. I feel that I will be detoxing from this for the rest of my life, and it's a joyful process. Living outside the box makes me a person at peace, a person people constantly observe as "always so happy." I used to be very good at "blooming where I was planted," which was of course not true happiness, and the strain inevitably showed. I am finally happy on my own terms, and the difference is obvious to me.

—Paula L

A happy free day!
photo by Vlad Gurdiga

Also by Paula L, beautiful, but I cannot match a photo to it:
A Day of Wonder
It's sweet and poetic; please read it.

Portals to this and that

Yesterday's post had a song to listen to, if you clicked through to the blog. It didn't show in e-mail. Check again, if you missed it, if you like songs. This one is from late 1967. Some of you were not born yet, but I was 14 years old—a great age to appreciate new 60s music. Another link to What You Can't See, from yesterday.
As I worked on updating and stabilizing pages here and on my website, I started marking those I felt were sufficient, for now, for use from phones and computers both. At first I was using a big asterisk, but when I linked a page on facebook or somewhere, a grey scary asterisk showed as the first image, and that's no good, so I went with __
a little line.
On blogposts, they're centered below the photo credit. On webpages, they're in the upper right corner (or left, if the upper right was occupied).

THOSE ARE LINKS!

From Just Add Light and Stir, on older posts, if you see one of those lines it probably goes to a second webpage that's also applicable—maybe one that didn't yet exist when the post was new. Sometimes they go to a different blog day that's a good match.

At SandraDodd.com, they link to posts at Just Add Light and Stir that link to or quote that page, usually. So those go back and forth between the blog and site, usually.

If you find one that doesn't go anywhere, let me know and I can put something in. There might be ten or a dozen that are blank, because at first I thought it would be just a mark for my own use.

Entertaining mysteries are better than irritating blank mysteries.

Have fun, if you see any of those unmarked portals.


Unschooling Site News, SandraDodd.com
photos by me (the sign) and Hema Bharadwaj (of me in 2010 posing with a zoo's... I don't know what those are called, when you stick your head in something for a photo)

Beauty and usefulness

The world isn't sorted into serious and funny, or beautiful and dull. Things are often quite mixed up, and changing with the moment, and the light, and the seasons. New things get old.

Some radio stations (which aren't as vital as they once were) play songs that are sixty years old, or more. A hundred years ago, 1920 provided the first public radio broadcasts of a news program (in Detroit, Michigan). A college radio station aired music, a sporting event and concerts (Schenectedy, New York). An opera was broadcast for the twenty radios that could receive it (August 2020, Buenos Aries, Argentina).

Our receipt of sound is more varied now, and we can bring in humor, debate, tragedy, and re-reuns of those things from earlier times. Text and images have been added. We have more choices than we have time to choose them, these days.

Look for beauty and usefulness. Choose joy and uplift, from the river of output that pours around us.

SandraDodd.com/emotion
photo by Sandra Dodd, in Liverpool one time

Stories of radio in 1920, which I looked up not knowing I really was writing this 100 years after initial public broadcasts, came from Wikipedia's History of Radio page. Good coincidence, for 2020. We are living in the flow of history.__

Imaginary advisors

Sandra Dodd, on stored internal messages:

I think of whose voices I've let speak back to me when I'm wondering what to do, what cartoonish characters are in the peanut gallery of my conscience. I have Mr. Jamison who was the best voice coach I ever had. That's when I'm singing, or sometimes when I'm getting gushy about certain kinds of music and a voice (Sam Jamison's) says it's pap. I don't always agree with him, but I wrestle his opinion lots of times when I don't expect to need to.

I have lots of former best friends, neighbors, teachers, relatives. Some have to sit in the dark back rows, and I don't listen to them as much as I once did because I decided their advice was bad. Some are totally situational (music, or money, or cooking). Some are more about philosophy and ethics and compassion, so they sit up in front with the light on them more often.

I don't mind being one of the council of imaginary advisors anyone has. I just hope they'll listen to lots of voices and not follow any of them without really thinking about it or understanding why.

Use your words (with a great comment)
photo by Sandra Dodd

Attractions and fears

[Warnings can become attractions.]

It seems what will cause a kid to watch a show he doesn't want to watch is parental disapproval. If he's been told it's too scary, too adult, or forbidden, his natural curiosity might cause him to want to learn WHY. My kids, with the freedom to turn things on or off, turned LOTS of things off, or colored or did Lego or played with dolls or action figures during "the boring parts" (often happening to be the adult parts—what did they care?) and only looked back up when happy music or light or dogs or kids got their attention again.

SandraDodd.com/t/whatif
photo by Alex Polikowsky