Play with words

Playing with words makes them come to life.

The history of England, of math, of writing, of counting.... Any portal into the universe is as real as any other. If an interest in language or butterflies or patterns or water creates connections for that person to anything else in the world, that can lead to EVERYTHING else in the world.

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A parent cannot decipher the whole world for her child, but she can help him begin to decipher it.

SandraDodd.com/etymology
photo by Sandra Dodd, in a park in Bangalore
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What makes things wonderful

The most common use of the word "wonder" these days is to express a question in a way that isn't likely to be answered, as in "I wonder when this tree will blossom?" It's also used to play with very young children with peek-a-boo games. "I wonder where Holly is? Where could she be? There she is!"

The deeper meaning of the word is what makes things wonderful. Full of wonder. Some adults are afraid of "wonder," though, because it involves relaxing into not understanding. It requires acceptance that one does not know. At its core, it is acceptance of and admiration for the mysterious and the hidden. It is taking joy in the revelation of simple things for which there are no words.

Similar page, SandraDodd.com/wonder
(though the quote is from page 279 (or 322) of The Big Book of Unschooling)
photo by Sandra Dodd
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Real writing

Writing to real people for real purposes improves writing in real ways.


The quote is mine from a post to Always Learning,
but here's a link to go with it: SandraDodd.com/writing
photo by Sandra Dodd
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For now

In response to questions about what unschoolers can say to doubters and critics right in that crucial moment, I wrote:

Some things I've said:

"This is working for now. If it stops working, we'll do something else."

"Thanks. I'll think about that." (Or you could say "We thought about that," or "I think about that all the time.")

Mostly people want to know you heard what they said, and that you have thought about what they're suggesting. It doesn't hurt to say that you have, or that you will.

SandraDodd.com/school/say
photo by Sandra Dodd of one of the Diamond Jubilee beacons
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Affection and esteem

Pam Sorooshian wrote:

Something that has rattled around in my head for years is the line, "You're the parent, not their friend."

I was just reading a news article and someone was quoted as saying: "Your kids don’t need a 40-year-old friend. They need a parent."

What a tragic dichotomy that one little line sets up!

Every single time that line has ever entered my head, it was leading me in the wrong direction. Every time.

What is a friend? I'm not talking about the schoolmates teenagers go out partying and drinking with. Not talking about the 5-year-old kid your child happens to play with at the park that day. I'm talking about real friendship.

1. a friend: one attached to another by affection or esteem

Knowing what I know now, with my kids grown, I strongly feel that that that one line, which permeates parental consciousnesses, should be quickly and actively contradicted and rooted out like a pernicious weed every single time it sprouts up.

Instead of "You're the parent, not their friend," substitute, "Be the very very best friend to them you can possibly be."

—Pam Sorooshian

SandraDodd.com/friend
photo by Sandra Dodd

Anniversaries and memories

Queen Elizabeth II has been Queen for 60 years. Longer than I've been alive (I'll be 59 next month), she's been doing the same job, full time.

Two days ago, I watched BBC 1's live coverage of a flotilla of a thousand boats on the Thames, while I was sitting in the Daniels' living room with them and Addi. The Queen and Prince Phillip were on a boat in the flotilla, which was docked partway through so they could view the rest of the parade. They stood (never sat) through the entire thing, until the last boat passed, waving to all of them. While we got up for food and water and the bathroom, they seemed not to (though the Queen did go below briefly, and came back with a carefully draped shawl). It was cold, and sometimes raining. Because they stood, everyone else on the boat stood, too. Hours, and hours.

I was warm, inside. I was sitting.

Here comes my point. There are things to remember and times to remember them. The birth of a child, the decision to let him stay home instead of go to school, the time one decided to live a life of learning as an unschooling parent—these things are large in our lives. Take pride in your accomplishment even though there might not be people cheering you or waving flags.

You might feel you're doing a lot of work, under harsh conditions, while your children play. Think of the larger picture when you feel jealous or resentful. You had a choice. You have choices. All that needs to happen for years to pass peacefully is for a series of moments to pass peacefully. All you need to do to have anniversaries accrue is to continue to behave as conscientiously as you can, and to make choices in generous and selfless ways

SandraDodd.com/milestones/
photo by Sandra Dodd, who first became an unschooler 22 years ago
but who remembers having been an unschooling mom less than a year
and for a whole year, and then five, and later ten...

Whose home, whose responsibility?

Funny how parents say 'It's your home too and your responsibility,' when it comes to chores, but 'It's my home,' when it comes to setting standards or how money is spent or how to decorate it or ...

—Joyce Fetteroll

from a discussion at familyrun.ning, saved by The Wayback Machine
photo by Sandra Dodd
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