Monday, February 7, 2011

Not lazy

Part of my response to a 2008 question about whether unschoolers will grow up lazy:

I've done resumes for LOTS of my friends. Kirby wrote his and just needed formatting, because he doesn't have Word. He wrote this in his intro:

"I am a long-experienced mentor and coach..."

Some people put stuff in their resumes I roll my eyes at, or hesitate to type up. Kirby is telling the simple truth. He's 21. Since he was twelve or so he's been helping teach karate, helping run games at the gaming shop. They hired him as soon as he turned 14 because he was already running the Pokemon tournaments for four hours every Saturday morning and it was against the rules of Pokemon gymleadermanship (!?) for it not to be an employee of the store. For over a third of his life he's been coaching and teaching and organizing people younger and older than he is.


SandraDodd.com/hena08/lazy
photo by Sandra Dodd
at Denny's, with Holly

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Patterns in silence


Let us assume (with my house as an example, at least) that hyperactivity runs in families and that like attracts like. With extra energy, people can do two things at once. If one of those things is pattern-building and physical, that whole verbal part of the brain is still available. Working on patterns in silence allows one’s mind to whirl and twirl. Doing something non-verbal while talking has a special advantage: Silence is not awkward. Changing the subject temporarily to talk about the blocks or paints or puzzle is not really changing the subject. Fear and foreboding won’t cause people to leave the conversation or cry. It’s possible to pause, think, breathe, stall, collect oneself and come back to the topic in a minute. I have a near-teen here who sometimes needs to be with me a while before he gets to what he needs to say. That puzzle didn’t really need to be worked, but perhaps that child needed to sit with that parent.

From "Leaning on a Truck," 1999
SandraDodd.com/truck
photo by Sandra Dodd
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Saturday, February 5, 2011

Patience

In 1997, someone asked how unschooling moms stayed patient.

Other moms have told me they think I'm patient. It makes me feel guilty because I have the internal list of all the times I've blown it, but a few things have helped me.

The biggest was Adult Children of Alcoholics, an al-Anon group. I went to meetings for four years and learned a lot of calming and encouraging things. One of those is to remember what I wanted and needed as a child. Then I try to give those things to my children. I don't mean toys or books. I mean listening, and smiling, and joking, and letting them climb on stuff even if it made me nervous, and not making such strictly-to-the-minute rules like "be back at 5:45 or else" and other arbitrary control-junk. One of the quotes/sayings from that learning-time is "How Important Is It?" and thinking that little mantra can help a ton all by itself. If we waste our energy and our relationship with our children on how they wear their socks and where they keep their toothbrush between times, there's nothing left for important things. I try to save it for important things, and I try not to be the defining judge of what's important. There are things the kids consider very important, and I force myself (at first, until I calm myself and remind myself to give) to pay attention to their stuff too. No "That's nice dear" while I ignore them. When it happens, occasionally, that I've done that, I feel bad and I sometimes go back and say, "Tell me again about that game. I'm sorry. I wasn't really listening."

Next biggest influence was La Leche League. There I learned that children have within them what they need to know, and that the parent and child are a team, not adversaries. It reinforced the idea that if you are loving and gentle and patient that children want to do what you ask them to do, and that they will come to weaning, potty training, separation from mom, and all those milestones without stress and without fear if you don't scare them or stress them! Seems kind of obvious, but our culture has 1,000 roadblocks.


From having studied meditation and Eastern religion, I learned the value of breathing. I think what it does is dissipate adrenaline. I remember in the 1960's and early 1970's it was Big News that yogis could *actually* slow their heart rates at will! WELL duh. People had been doing it in church (those who cared to actually "be still and know") for hundreds of years, but nobody thought to wire up contemplative Christians.

When people (parents or kids) are agitated and are thinking for a moment that something has to happen JUST THIS WAY and RIGHT NOW, breathing helps. Deep breathing, slow, and full-as-possible exhalation. This is, in Western terms, "count to ten." Calm down and let the adrenaline go. Some people have biochemistry that's not easy to control, and some people count too fast.

SandraDodd.com/parentingpeacefully
(read aloud as an intro, in the recording at the bottom of the page)

photo by Sandra Dodd of the neighbor's tree seen through an inch-thick piece of ice from a bucket of water on a cold day
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Friday, February 4, 2011

a hook to hang it on


Everything counts, and every connection made increases the depth and breadth of the map of the universe each person is building. It makes it easier to learn the next few things, because there are more places to hook the knowledge.

SandraDodd.com/strew/how
photo by Sandra Dodd

Thursday, February 3, 2011

There *will* be longterm effects...

We can mess them up early (which our culture applauds) or we can learn to let them grow whole and healthy and strong and free, not crippled in mind and spirit.
SandraDodd.com/eating/longterm
photo by Sandra Dodd
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Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Big Deals

I found a note on my desk, in my handwriting, that says "How long do you think it will be before it's not a big deal?"

At first I couldn't remember why I had written it, but it was an idea for an interview I'm planning.

It's a good question for many occasions, though. How long before our school successes or hurts aren't a big deal? In hindsight, you might have personal worries or stories that once obscured the entire horizon, and now they're not the big deals they once were.

Click here and the photo for two sources of examples of once-big excitement.
photo by Sandra Dodd
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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Running in the fog

Once there was heavy fog at our house. Kirby was four or five. He had never seen it at all, and this was as thick as I have ever seen fog. He wanted to go and touch it. I yelled "Let's go!" and we ran up the road, and ran, and ran. About seven houses up we got tired, and I said "Look" and pointed back toward our house, which was gone in the fog.

I did not say "See? You can't touch it, really, it's touching us, it's all around us."
I didn't say "Let's don't bother, it's just the same wherever in there you are."

I let him experience the fog. He learned by running in fog and smelling it, and losing his house in it.



Learning to See Differently
photo by Sandra Dodd