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Posts tagged ‘every day learning’

Every Day Unschooling

I have been thinking lately about how to breathe some life back into this blog, and I think I might have found a way.

Breastfeeding an infant provides ample opportunity for reflection, and I’ve been reflecting on how much unschooling is integral to our lives – about how every day we do things little and large to make the world a better place. And I think I might use this blog as a way of talking about those little things (for a while, anyway.)

Like, today we buried nga whenua of little Alfie and of Joss. Joss’s has been in the freezer for nearly six years – I was so determined that this was not going to be the case for Alfie’s that I forbade Ron from putting it in the freezer. A woman having just given birth is allowed to forbid things. Besides, turns out I was right: having a small plastic container of placenta in the fridge provides high levels of motivation to dig a hole in the back yard and deal with it.

We got Joss’s out of the freezer a couple of days ago, and this morning she asked if she could have a look at it. I’m going to be honest and admit that plunging my hand into that cold, dark, bloody mess so that we could look at it had me swallowing a couple of times and taking some deep breaths. But I did it. The midwife had shown her Alfie’s on Monday night after the birth, so I’m guessing she wanted to see how similar or different hers was. She was quickly satisfied, and I was gladly relieved of my medical examiner duties.

I insisted that everyone was dressed for the occasion. We get to insist things too, us postpartum women. I thought about putting on some mascara, but Alfie woke up and needed feeding. We each made our way outside carrying something to bury with nga whenua.

I said a few words. Louis placed Alfie’s whenua in the ground, and Joss slopped hers in from about shoulder height. We placed our extra things in with them, and then the big kids and Ron took turns filling in the hole while I stood in the sunshine (still) breastfeeding Alfie.

Joss found a tile in the garden that a friend had given me when we left the Netherlands, 13 years ago. We hosed it down and scrubbed it up, and Joss carried it to the now-filled-in-hole. I could hear her saying a few words as she placed the stone, but couldn’t make out what they were. She was full of the light-hearted, celebratory occasion that it was.

The section of the garden where we planted them today is where we planted Louis’ placenta when we first moved here. It feels so wonderfully complete to have honoured nga whenua of our three children and returned them to nourish te whenua that nourishes their souls – their own back yard.

This is how we raised a revolution today.

 

How do they learn?

When people ask me this question, it could mean a couple of things:

The actual nuts and bolts of how they learn – what happens with their brain – I’m pretty sure they’re not asking about that.

The circumstances of how they learn – what opportunities will they have to learn – that could be what they’re asking. I’ll try and answer that question.

Everyday they wake up and they’re learning from that point on. They’re learning in ways I can’t see – how their body responds to the environment. What it feels like to walk around with no socks on on a cold morning. How hungry they are after not eating much at dinner last night. Whether their arm hurts after swinging off the fort yesterday. All of this is going on without my involvement, and to some degree without my input.

Sometimes the learning is more visible. We get water in these 15L canisters with wide mouths at the top. One of our regular drinking glasses fits over the top of the mouth. A couple of weeks ago we had some people over for dinner and Louis got up to get himself a drink of water and he (incorrectly) estimated that the amount of water left in the canister would fit in his drinking glass (well, I think that’s what happened). And he rested the mouth of the canister in his glass. Like, inverted the whole thing. Then, when he saw it wasn’t going to fit, he lifted the canister off and water went EVERYWHERE. One of the dinner guests’ eyes went wide and he started to panic a bit and I turned around to catch the end of what had happened and turned back to the guest saying, “Oh, it’s ok, that’s science. He’s learning all about physics right now. Honey, just go and get a big towel from the rags and soak it up.”

This is the circumstance of learning most of the time in our house. It’s usually messy.

Imagine if I were to try and capture these for a day? I would run myself ragged and annoy the crap out of my kids saying, “Hang on, hang on, I gotta get a photo of that!”

Here’s one that happened last night:

We got given a box of ripe bananas, which we love because we make ice cream and smoothies out of them when they’re frozen. After dinner, while I was milling around doing something, unbeknownst to me, Louis was hauling the box of bananas to the table, and he’d grabbed a bag to freeze them in.The first I knew of it was when he asked, “Could someone help me with this?” And I turned around and saw it all and was like, “Holy hell, he’s really keen!” So we did it together. Some of the bananas were too ripe even for smoothies/ice cream though, so we made a seperate “cake” pile. As we were finishing, I asked him to go and get a sharpie and write “cake” on the bag of bananas that were over-over-ripe. He’s NOT a keen writer. His relationship with a pen is fraught with difficulty. I asked him in a way that gave him 100% recourse to say, “No, I don’t want to.” Which he did. And I said, “Ok, I’ll get Joss to do it” as I was writing “c-a-k-e” on our blackboard (did I mention I made this blackboard??!!). It might have been his pride, or it might have been he saw me write it and thought he could manage it, but he said, “Oh, no – I can do it.” and he did. He wrote it in clear, beautiful letters that look like I could have written them. And now, when he goes to the freezer to get bananas to make a smoothie, or a cake, he’s going to look for that group of letters, and he’s going to know that they make the word “cake”.

These are the circumstances in which they learn.

Louis asked me if I could have another baby when he was 12 years old. I said, “No, I’ll be too old to have a baby when you’re 12.” Which sparked a conversation about eggs, and hormones and egg deterioration. And in an eight-year-old-appropriate way, he’s added to a small foundation of knowledge of reproductive organs, upon which to build at a later date. This is biology. And it’s sociology. This is how he learns.

I could go on forever. These kinds of things happen every day.

They learn about pollination by dreaming of plums while looking at spring-time blossom.

They learn about germination by listening to me swear when my seeds fail to grow yet again.

They learn division when deciding how big the pieces of cake can be while still having enough for one each. They learn multiplication when we pack a lunch and we each want two mandarins.

The learning is non-stop. It can happen on Sunday evenings or Wednesday afternoons and every moment in between.

I am not worried about how they learn. It is not something I occupy my time with. Or theirs. We honestly just live life.

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