"You Can Do That??"

This is the text of a presentation I gave at the Northeast Unschoolers' Conference, held May 23 through May 25, 2008. (Note: Thanks are in order to Kelly Lovejoy for the idea for this title ~ she's so smart!)

There has never been anything I have found myself compelled to say someone else that I did not, sooner or later, discover that I needed to hear for myself, so thanks to Kathryn and Beth for apparently recognizing my need. And, thanks to all of you here for fulfilling this need. I hope you will get as much out of it as I will!!

I want to begin by reading something I wrote about my unschooling life with Liam, my 13½-year-old son, last February.

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I'm bursting with joy about Liam. He is an amazing, brilliant, wonderful, super-cool, super-sweet, extremely fun person, and I'm enjoying him as well as our journey together more and more and more.

I have been particularly enjoying witnessing his acquisition of literacy, growing awareness of the world, and other skills that are typically, albeit perhaps superficially, acquired early on in a school setting in this culture. It is impressive how well he has acquired for himself reading, spelling, math, and other such skills without, as my father sweetly pointed out, having it rammed down his throat.

But, I don't want you to think that I have not spent some of this time chomping on my nails! This unschooling journey is about nothing if not trust and faith. Having been around the block a few times, now, I already knew the possible outcomes that are offered in the school setting: the boredom, the ridicule, the irrelevance, the condescension, the busy work, and, yes, the very real possibility that a kid might connect with a loving, concerned, interesting, interested adult. But that possibility notwithstanding, we opted to err on the side of dignity, wholeness, slowness, and unremitting joy. I will never regret that choice.

Helpful to me was reading things other folks had written about their unschooling journey. I've always been one of those folks who thinks that if someone else can do it, so can I. I particularly recall reading an article entitled, I Can Breathe Again—My Children Finally Learned to Read by Carol Rice-McClure, and that article was very, very calming for me. It may have helped that one of her kids was named Liam, and he didn't acquire reading until he was 16.

What's astoundingly beautiful to me is that during those years when my Liam might have been contorting himself and forcing his brain to acquire skills he clearly didn't need or want at the time, he was able to acquire and refine other kinds of skills, perhaps not as readily identifiable or quantifiable as reading or calculating the area of a particular circle or knowing the intricate details of the Crimean War. Instead, he was and still is a student of himself and his world around him. While other kids might have been reading some irrelevant story or learning parts of speech, he was playing with a hose in our yard, watching how water melts snow or watching two ant colonies battle for supremacy or exploring how he could dance like Donald O'Connor in Singin' in the Rain.

As a natural consequence of this abundant time he had for self-exploration, Liam, while beautifully preserving his child-like nature, even at 13 years of age, is perceptive and wise beyond his years. He is thoughtful and has a self-understanding that I wish I had now, let alone when I was 13 years old and getting myself into all kinds of trouble over my lack of self-awareness and the desire to please others and fit in. He is generous and sees this world as a loving, giving place. He naturally fits into that as a loving, giving person himself.

Another cool aspect of unschooling is that Liam owns his own learning process! Truly, we all ultimately own the process for acquiring the skills we have, but chances are that we may not know it. Many of us have been led to believe that someone else, someone who may or may not even care about us, deserves credit for the things we learn, a la the bumper sticker that pontificates, "If you can read this, thank a teacher." What a load of crap we have bought into! Sure, we can be helped (or hindered) by other folks. But the responsibility and the credit for learning the things we learn, no matter what the venue, fall squarely to and belong solely to the learner, not the so-called teacher!

Liam is aware of this Big Lie, and he is aware of the Bigger Truth. He is aware that it is *his* fantastic ability to learn, his desire to learn, his ability to decipher and reason and retain and inquire and ponder...all these things are to his credit and no one else's. He is aware that this is true not only for himself but for everyone, only most folks in our society don't get to live in the light of that reality as he does. This awareness is so much more empowering than the ability to read or calculate alone.

How fortunate am I to be his mom and be here for this process!?!

I am so acutely aware of how special each and every moment is with him. Forgive me for being morose, but I am keenly aware of how uncontrollable and unpredictable life can be. I am reminded of this all the time, and I believe that this awareness is a gift that helps me appreciate our nows much, much more.

Because we had discovered and embraced unschooling when Liam was so young, I feel that we have been given a pass to avoid the usual pitfalls that many folks may believe go hand-in-hand with living with a teenager. Liam has always been shown consideration, compassion, empathy, respect, and kindness, and he is now extremely considerate, compassionate, empathic, respectful, and kind. I guess I was that way, too, as a kid, but perhaps a bit more out of fear (fear of punishment, fear of judgment, fear of ridicule, fear of a butt-swatting). Liam knows no fear of these things. He is considerate, compassionate, respectful and kind because it is a sort of cultural norm for him (in our family's culture).

Liam understands fully that his purpose for being here on Earth at this time is to live a Joyful Life. How cool is that?

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So, that's what I spontaneously wrote a few months ago for no particular reason. Then, it occurred to me that I would be speaking here to you fine folks, and I had better give a little thought to what I wanted to, you know, talk about. I knew that I wanted to talk about relationships, since that's a big area of interest for me. But, every time I'd sit down to write about relationships, I'd get a little hung up. Then, the light bulb went on over my head and I realized that it would be disingenuous of me to talk with authority about anything other than -- me. I realized that until I could speak my story, I probably would not be able to access the other stuff I had to say. So, here's how things started for us.

First, you should know that I never, ever intended to be a mom. Not that the invitation to Liam's soul wasn't intentionally extended ~ it was; he was no "accident." It's just that all through my early adult years, I was focused on my musical life and life in general and felt, in fact, that I'd probably not make such a great parent. And, in retrospect, I can see that it was true. It was just not something I felt called to do, and I figured I'd never feel called to do it. Jim, my life partner, and I were living a joyful, carefree, musical, spontaneous life, and I believe that we were both content to continue along like that until we were old and crusty.

That was, until we accidentally conceived. When I found out I was pregnant, I was completely freaked out ... for about five minutes. Then, I was over the moon! Jimmy was still unsettled and unsure, being the more practical of the two of us. When his brother asked him whether he was hoping for a boy or a girl, Jimmy said, "I was kinda hoping for a puppy." But soon after that, not long into the pregnancy, I miscarried. After I got over my devastation, I realized that being a mom may have been something I actually wanted after all. I just never realized it.

We kept going along our merry, carefree way, though, but we noticed that we were getting a little long in the tooth, and if we were going to start down this parenthood path, maybe we'd better start taking the first steps. Which we did. That's when we extended the invitation to any soul who would be so brave as to accept these two ne'er-do-well, musician folks as parents. About two years later, an amazing soul accepted our invitation, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I LOVED being pregnant!! Nausea and food and odor aversions aside, I had never felt better or happier. In fact, when my midwife Irene confirmed my positive pregnancy test, I broke into prolonged hysterical laughter. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, but I still was overcome by joy, and I laughed like a fool. She told me she had never seen a reaction like that in all her years of telling folks they were pregnant. I loved getting enormous and I loved the changes my body went through to accommodate this brave little soul.

I studied hard for my pregnancy, too! I read everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and childbirth so I could understand precisely what my body was doing and what I should be eating, and I followed diligently the map of my growing baby's journey, savoring the awareness of each moment. It's not that I wanted to freeze time; I wanted to fully experience every moment of this miraculous thing I was getting to go through. The overwhelming feeling I had (and still have) is how amazed and honored I felt to be experiencing all this.

Then, one day around the beginning of my sixth month, it occurred to me that I was not just pregnant. I was going to have a baby. Whom I would have to care for. All the studying about *being* pregnant was cool, and preparing for childbirth was cool, but what about *after* the baby was born? I began to realize that my body knew what to do, and the best I could do was get out of its way and allow it to do it. What I needed to start doing was prepare to be a mom.

Hence, my first La Leche League meeting. I went when I was six months' pregnant and hoped I wasn't too late! Not too crazy, right? I picked up a copy of the Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, and fell even more in love with this whole being-a-mom idea. I. could. not. wait.

That said, you should have seen me after Liam was born. I was utterly panicked! I recall having a dream one night that I was able to put him back in the womb ~ just for one night ~ so we could go out to dinner. This whole thing was so *real*. And I felt so *responsible*. Which allowed me to instantly recall *why* I had felt so unqualified to have children in the first place; I didn't want to be that responsible for anyone else's life. I was OK with utterly messing up my own life, but the thought of botching up another's life was just too much for me to bear. But, it was too late now. I had put in my job application, I was hired, and now *this* was my gig, and quitting wasn't an option.

Anyway, I went to my first LLL meeting and I realized that I had come home. First of all, I loved the idea of breastfeeding, which I had only first heard about on the radio ~ believe it or not ~ when I was 17 years old. Some woman was being interviewed about the breastfeeding advocacy group La Leche League and I thought, stupidly, "Oh my god! *That's* what they're for??" I honestly had no idea that this was something a person could do! (I must have cut school the day they were talking about human lactation. Or, maybe they didn't bother!) Anyway, I thought, a little less stupidly, "Cool! If I ever have a baby that's what *I'm* going to do." I knew that much.

I went to every LLL meeting faithfully, and I developed for myself a wonderful community of other like-minded moms; many of us had this crunchy thing going on that made me feel a lot less scared and like I was from another planet, if you know what I mean. One of the LL leaders pulled me aside one night and recommended that I borrow from their library Jean Liedloff's book, "The Continuum Concept." I did and was delighted to discover that this book was about the the very same folks, an Amazonian pre-Columbian indigenous tribe, the Yekuana, whom my anthropologist cousin had written about for his doctoral disertation. (I know this because I typed his manuscript for him, which was later published.) Anyway, I read the book and many of the ideas about parenting deeply resonated with me. I was further delighted to find out that there was a group of women who met every week to support each other in incorporating some of the concepts discussed in this book into our practical mothering lives here in late 20th century American life. And, it was in this group that I first learned about Unschooling.

"Oh my god! You can do that?" That was my initial reaction. If you could have seen the bruises and contusions I still bore from my then-distant school career, you can then begin to imagine how powerful this was for me to hear. To say that I hated school is probably a gross understatement. Loathed. Despised. Repulsed by. You get the idea. When I discovered back in the 8th grade that I could actually cut classes, this was another of my you-can-do-that? moments. I became an incorrigible class-cutter. And, I always got into trouble for it. Only thing was, I didn't exactly feel righteous about it! John Taylor Gatto and John Holt weren't household names back in the late 60s and early 70s, and nobody in the mainstream was impugning the merits of compulsory education. *I* knew there was something rotten here, but no one was giving me any quarter, me being considered to be an educational miscreant.

Truth is, I felt a great deal of intense shame about my inability to step up to the plate here and not all virtuous. I felt like I had been dropped here from another planet! Why *couldn't* I tolerate school? Everyone else could. But, I just couldn't make myself do this thing, no matter how threatened, shamed, punished, berated I was; no matter how sad and puzzled my parents were. When I was fortunate enough to stumble across a subject or a teacher I liked, I did do pretty well. But, if I felt the teacher was a jerk or the subject was boring to me, I physically could not make myself go, even though it meant all kinds of annoying drama and trauma and shame and punishment. In fact, I'm probably still grounded!

Anyway, The school question was one I actually hadn't considered during the pregnancy. We figured somehow we'd find some funky alternative-type school for our kid. Through our friends, before we even were considering pregnancy, we had become a little familiar with Waldorf, although it gave us a vaguely creepy feeling, and Montessori, and we figured we'd probably do something like that. We still didn't much like the idea though.

So, finding out that there was such a thing as this "unschooling" was like finding the Mother lode for us! And, the more I investigated it and the more I learned about it, the more right it felt. Jimmy, a recovering Catholic school student, was totally down with the idea, too. So, now we had *this* piece of the puzzle and we were just waiting for all the other pieces to fill in around it so we could put it in place.

Fast-forward four years. We had moved by this time to a different community. We had been living in a suburb of New York City, and there were great things about it. Coincidentally, it was the town I grew up in, but despite that there were good things about it. But, we both felt that it was important to provide Liam with abundant access to nature, so we found a great little house in the woods in a semi-rural part of New York state where Liam could fully be Liam. The more I learned about this spectacular person who had accepted our invitation, the more I became delighted and amazed that I was the one whose invitation he accepted.

It was becoming increasingly apparent to me, though, that this was a boy who loved to be around other kids. And, where we lived there was only one other kid. And, that other kid was going to school. And, getting a little weird in the process. We were still full steam ahead with our plans to unschool, and I had gotten pretty well informed about what our state required of us and how we were going to do that. But, I was starting to get these niggling, nagging little thoughts and ideas about making plans and decisions for Liam without his being fully informed about his options.

Although I had not yet heard the term "consensual parenting," that was what I was attempting to do. I decided that for the most part I would try to defer all decisions that would materially affect Liam until he could make an informed choice, unless it was absolutely, truly necessary in my best judgment at the time.

This school thing was bugging me now; I knew that he liked to be with other kids and I knew that he loved to play and play and play. I knew that public school as I remembered it would totally mess him up and undo all the wonderful things he had been developing so far: His sense of himself, his creativity, his intense individualistic style, his joy, his brilliance. But, how, I asked myself, could he make a decision about school if he didn't understand all his options? And, how could he understand school without, you know, experiencing it? (It's at this point in the story that I would like to be able to jump into a time capsule and go back and have a heart-to-heart with myself about this subject. I'd remind myself that Liam has his whole life to make this decision; it doesn't have to be made now. I'd remind myself that things are going along beautifully as they are, and there are other ways of finding kids to be with; just put a little more effort into that. But, there you have it. I have no way to go back and affect the past.) Absent the time capsule idea, what I really needed back then was this conference, but Kelly hadn't had that first wonderful conference yet, and I didn't actually know any other practicing unschoolers I could work this out with.

So, a friend of mine had heard about a local Montessori school being run by a woman who shared many of my ideals and values. Liam and I met with her and I told her all about my views on education. She had never heard of John Holt, but she was fascinated. We liked each other, she liked Liam, Liam liked her, I liked Liam, we both liked her dog, the dog liked us. Okay. We'll try it. BUT, I said, you must never "make" Liam do academic stuff. I told her that he needed to initiate all learning activities. Furthermore, she allowed me to work there so I was still with Liam. We'll see.

Working there went against almost every natural instinct I had. I HATED it. For one thing, Liam's peers were these extremely young kids (youngest two and a half). I believed in my heart of hearts that they should be with *their* moms, not Liam's mom! A big part of the philosophy there was getting kids to separate from their parents, and I felt that was fundamentally wrong. So, I was unwilling to make it easy for these moms to be away from their kids. Not that I wouldn't comfort a crying child: Of course, I would. But, I would also contact these moms to let them know that their kids needed them.

Anyway, as much as I was saddened by the this whole thing, Liam loved it. He was totally in his element, playing, playing, playing all the time with a whole smorgasbord of other kids ~ older and younger ~ who were also into playing, playing, playing. Creative, dramatic play had always been his element, and other kids were happy to follow Liam's direction. And, our hands-off position regarding academics was totally respected. Nobody approached Liam about reading or math or colors or letters.

And then, there was The Work. I found this part of Montessori practice pretty silly. The "rule" was that a kid could not just walk up to one of the shelves, pick up whatever interesting-looking thing was there, and start playing with it. A kid had to have a "lesson" in it. Like, the teachers were going to show kids the proper way to play with this thing. And then, the proper way to put it back. What the...? Show a kid how to play? That's like showing a dog how to eat! It's adults who don't know how to play, right? I got in trouble for this more than once because I negligently allowed some of my charges to play with the "work" without my having ensured their competence to do so. After all, think what might have happened. Wiser now, I shudder to think of the possibilities!

Liam was unfazed by this because he was never fooled about the "work." He knew that he was not an adult-in-training. He was a Person. Already whole, already there. He needed lessons on how to play with stuff like he needed lessons to breathe the air.

Anyway, this all went well... until the next year. The next year would be Kindergarten. In order for Liam to be able to stay with this person and her dog who we all liked so well and who liked us, he would have to attend this thing full time. It was either that or continue to go half days but not be with our friend, who we loved quite well by now. So, we opted to immerse ourselves more in this world, not less. He'd be able to stay with his buds and I'd be able to continue working there and doing a sort of loose music program. It was all good. Or... that's what I told myself.

Turns out this setting was a bit more rigorous for Liam's peers. There were, for example, weekly goal sheets. That would have been cool, I suppose, if the goals had been those of the kids'. But, the goal sheets were filled out by the head teacher ~ yes, our friend. So, the kids were bound to accomplish not their own goals but the teacher's goals. Does anyone see anything funky with this? Now, Liam was starting to feel the heat a little. *His* goals all focused on continuing along the path he had been enjoying all along. That makes sense, right? Our friend, however, did not share his goals. She didn't understand them, didn't want to understand them. And, she couldn't get why this kid was showing no interest in the reading games she wanted him to play. Or, why he wasn't interested in memorizing the scientific names of the shapes of leaves. Don't all kids want to do this? And, when all the kids sat in "circle time" in the morning, she couldn't understand why he didn't find what she had to say as more important than the plans he wanted to make with his friends for that day's adventures. Now, I know there were other kids who were similarly not interested in the approved academic activities, but these kids did not have the support of their moms. They were really on their own and had to do as they were told. I shudder now to think about it.

Meanwhile, we need to talk about the other fragile individual involved here. My ego. Miss Head Teacher and I were dear friends, hanging out and laughing and sharing our personal trials and triumphs. You know, friends. And, she got the idea that I should a head teacher, too. She wanted me to go to Montessori Teacher School and become a bona fide Montessori teacher. Because, while she didn't entirely understand (obviously) my educational philosophy, she was interested and open to these different ideas. She certainly didn't shut me down, and that was encouraging. Plus, these kids, ranging in age from 5 to 10, were fun to hang with. Sweet and affectionate and generous and funny and generally delightful. Some of my fellow assistant teachers were kind of bizarre, and Liam definitely had struggles with those folks, as did all the kids in fact.

Anyway, as the year wore on, I became aware that Liam started changing a little. Although he wasn't being pressured to perform academically, other kids were, and what I didn't realize at the time was that he was comparing himself ~ unfavorably ~ to other kids who were being forced to acquire skills he didn't yet want or even need. And, he was beginning to form an opinion about himself based on this comparison. His play time was still going well, beautifully, really, at least during recess when they were permitted to play, but the day was starting to become a drag for him, and he was starting not to want to go there. My friggin' ego was, in the meanwhile, messing with me as I was thinking about this new career path. I'd go from being poorly compensated musician to being a poorly compensated Montessori teacher. Who could resist that?!

So, there Liam was one day, in a huddle with one of his best friends, planning the day's play at recess, when I overheard one of the teachers say, "Liam, are you working on your goals?" Of course, an absolutely accurate, honest answer would have been, "Why yes, Miss Teacher, I am working on my goals right this moment! Thank you so much for your interest!" But, Liam has always been a sweet, lovely boy, not the wise guy his mom can be, and he hung his beautiful head and was thwarted once again. My heart breaks thinking of it.

..sigh..

By February ~ somehow ~ the cavalry in the form of an epiphany showed up. The cavalry arrested my ego and reminded me that I was no Montessori teacher. I was an unschooler for heaven's sake! I was Liam's mom, and I was losing him. His spirit was being squashed and the only one in the world who could rescue him was me and there was not one second to waste. So, I did my first brave act ~ probably the first in my whole life. I called my friend (who's house we had, by the way, just purchased about a month earlier) and told her that I had negligently abandoned my role as Liam's partner. I told her that my life is not about me so much as it is about him, and that because I had made the conscious choice to invite Liam to be my son, my commitment was to his goal sheet, not mine. In fact, his goal sheet was my goal sheet. I had had 37 years before he came along to work on my goal sheet. Since he was glorious enough to give me the opportunity to be his mom, was I now going to abandon this incredible individual by switching paths? No way! Of course, my friend didn't like it. We argued for about two hours on the phone (not my style at all!) and in the end went our separate ways. I did not care. When it came down to choosing between my friendship with this sweet person or the well being of my son, there was no contest. When it came down to choosing between my ego or the well being of my son, a much more subtle choice, again, there would be no contest.

I am continually filled with gratitude for the clarity to have seen that we were on the wrong path and that we needed to get out of there quickly and without wasting one more second.

It took a few years to reverse the damage that our brief experience caused. It was a few years before Liam could see himself as the whole, brilliant, individual he is. The only thing I can say for the experience is that it left him with absolutely no doubt that unschooling is THE way to go.

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For us, unschooling has always boiled down to relationships, and we have kept good relationships as our sacred priority, and this has informed all of our decisions and choices. This has not necessarily been intentional, though. We have found respectful, joyful relationships to be a natural outcome of traveling this radical unschooling path. And, how could it not? When the goal is joy in each moment, then it stands to reason that each moment will be joyful. Or will, at least, tend towards joy. If joy is our goal, we will natural choose thoughts, words, and deeds that will lead us to more joyful moments. And, I have found that doing this has created a culture of kindness in our home. That is not to say that conflicts don't arise; of course, they do. But, in a culture of kindness, each member strives towards finding a compassionate solution to conflict. I know that this may sound kind of airy-fairy and other worldly; it is anything but. We are not perfect, and we don't float around the house. We are simply committed to each other's wholeness.

Liam, of course, didn't start out this way; and we didn't expect him to. Liam started out as any baby should, all for himself, unaware for the most part of the cost others would endure to provide him with his wants and his needs. But, I was very fortunate to find the well-trodden paths of others to follow. The moms from my early continuum group, Anne Ohman, Sandra Dodd, Joyce Feterroll, Pam Sarooshian, Kathryn Baptista, Kelly Lovejoy, Deb Lewis, Ren Allen, Mary Gold and many, many more folks (I could probably just stand here and recite the names of unschooler folks for an hour who have made a huge difference in my life), had been down this path and told me that it was a good one. What they said was so logical and made so much sense to me, even though it flew in the face of all the parenting tenets I had ever heard and thought were true (without pondering them too much).

It's interesting to note that I was not raised like this, even remotely. Not that I was abused or anything like that, but I can recall many, many more times that I was spoken to disrespectfully as a small child and even an older child than respectfully. I don't have to go in to it here, but suffice to say, although we had a culture of love and affection, we did not have a culture of respect and kindness. I was ridiculed, told directly and indirectly that I didn't know what I was feeling, shamed, the works. In my family of origin, fear and shame were the great motivators. But, you know that can only get someone so far.

So, how I walked away from my family of origin and was able to reject that top-down, punitive parenting style is a little miraculous when I think about it. What Anne and Sandra and Kathryn and everyone else was saying resonated deep within me, and I knew that this path would be far more appropriate for me as a parent than the one that was modeled for me by my folks, who I know did the best that they could with the tools they had. Thanks to these conferences, I got to actually meet fine people and their kids and I could see that this wasn't just talk. They were telling me the Truth. And, I could see this truth for myself.

This was excellent confirmation for us. As an outgrowth of that Continuum group we attended when Liam was still in arms, as an outgrowth of all that I had read in the Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, as an outgrowth of all that I had read about attachment parenting, the radical unschooling path has been appropriate and right in line with all that we had done thus far.

How has it worked for us? Radical unschooling has allowed Jim and me to get out of Liam's way yet hold a space for him to become himSelf. I'm sure that kids become themselves anyway. I know I did. But, whereas I had to struggle against others' ideas of who I was and who I ought to be, the radically unschooled child likely won't have that struggle. As a radical unschooling parent, my MO has been to hold a space for Liam to become the best Liam he can be, experiencing unremitting Joy whenever possible. Not for him to get the best grades (there are no grades). Not for him to get the highest scores (there are no scores). And, not for him to become the best Marji, either, by the way! The world already has a Marji Zintz. It doesn't need or want another one. What the world needs is a Liam Zintz-Kunkel ~ whole and himself. That was an epiphany I will always be grateful to have had.

I remember when I had it, too. When Liam was very, very little, I was adamant about having a no-violent-toys rule in our house. Truth is, I didn't think all that deeply about it. I was anti-gun, and I would not invite violence into my peaceful home. So, here we were living in the woods, no television, no violent toys, only natural stuff and music and all that. And, Liam goes outside, picks up a vaguely gun-shaped stick, points it, and says something like "pow." Where had he even *seen* a gun?? I had no idea, but I began to realize that I was messing with stuff that I maybe didn't understand. Then, Jimmy impressed upon me that he had guns to play with when he was a kid and he wasn't a violent criminal. Or a criminal. Or violent. I totally had to concede this point, and I relaxed about it.

But the epiphany that I had was that I had been trying to turn Liam into me, and that would be a doomed enterprise for sure. I finally realized that it was critical that I stop doing this. That I allow him to unfold and be himself. To learn what *he* likes and doesn't like. To support *his* explorations. This isn't Marji version 2.0.1. This is Liam, version one and only!

And what misery we have avoided just in that one realization! How crucial it has been to our level of trust in each other to be mindful of this. This clarity of vision has had a great effect on not only Liam but on all of us. At Liam's feet, Jim and I have learned to get out of our own way and choose more joyful moments. This has been the gift that Liam has brought to us.

A Burst of Joyful Creativity

Who knows when it's coming or why! All I know is that Liam has decided to start drawing a series of cartoons! It's the "Stick versus _____" series. "Stick," the protagonist, is a stick-figure character (as you might have surmised) and his nemeses have various names like "Copy Cat" and "King Marijuana." This is an action series, and Liam is really, really jazzed about it!

I love to draw, even though I'm not so good at it, and I always wished that Liam would love to draw, too, but he has never responded well to our drawing sessions. He used to draw all the time when he was much younger. But, then I think he got it into his head that he wasn't good at it. So, he didn't really want to continue. There was not much I could say or do to help him here, since that's just not what he wanted.

Sure 'nuff, today he's really getting into it! And, he clearly feels really good about it. His drawings and ideas, as you might expect from Liam, are so interesting and strikingly original. He reports that he loves to draw when he's not under pressure.

'Nuff said!

Our Friend, Lisa Heyman

Too tired and behind in my work to re-write this message, I am simply re-posting it here for anyone who should stop by and not actually know about this. I'm also contemplating renting a billboard in Times Square! :-)


First, please accept my apologies for this cross-posting. Many folks receiving this are liable to get several copies of this (as I will), but I wanted to ensure that I was thorough.

Many people reading this probably know Lisa Heyman; she and her family attended Live & Learn last year and several years, in fact. She along with her husband, Larry, has been a speaker at at least a couple of L&L conferences and has been involved in the NE Unschoolers' conference. She has been sharing her incredible wisdom on national forums for years, and if you're lucky enough to live in her neck of the woods, as I do, you also know that she is also a proactive organizer who, in creating a rich world for her daughters, Roxanne and "Fire," makes the world a richer, more interesting, more fun place for everyone else, too.

If you know Lisa, you may know that she has been having some health challenges for quite a while, now, that have been manifesting as heart-related. However, a definitive diagnosis had been frustratingly eluding her. But, last week, after testing that included a biopsy of the heart itself, she finally got the diagnosis, and it's a tricky one. She has been diagnosed with amyloidosis (I'm guessing primary amyloidosis, but that's just a guess on my part), more information about which can be found here:

http://www.amyloidosis.org/whatisit.asp

Lisa asked me to let you know about this, and she is asking for the community's support in the following ways:

If you know Lisa well enough to call her, *please don't*. Her daughter, Roxanne, asks that folks not call the house as she doesn't want to endure the pain right now of having to answer questions and retell stories. Roxy says would appreciate adults not asking her about what's going on; however, her friends have shown interest in how Roxy herself is doing, and that feels good to her.

Lisa has gone no-mail on the lists she belongs to, so if you want to send her an email message, you can send it to her home email address, if you know it, or send your message to me, and I'll forward it to her (putting "forward to Lisa" in the subject line will be extremely helpful!).

Otherwise, she asked me (directly quoting Lisa here) to "put a request out to the unschooling community (e-lists at large) asking for healing circle of energy to be sent our way. I haven’t been terribly active on the lists over the past year but do continue to read....We have booked our rooms at the NEUnschoolers conference and the Live and Learn Conference and look forward to seeing everyone there – but in the meantime I am calling upon all to send us a welcome energy of light, healing and well being to be sent our way. I have called upon my community of friends and the love we feel from everyone is a great comfort."

She will benefit, I believe, from all the concentrated loving energy that can be focused on her, and I am asking folks to hold her in that kind of light.

Thanks, everyone!

Since then, a regular weekly healing circle has been organized by Jean Magee. Here's what she has to say:

Hi all,

There is a small group of us that have decided to have a weekly meditation for Lisa. We have chosen Sunday evenings at 6 pm (EST) for about a half hour.

Last Sunday there were 8 of us doing a guided visual meditation sending out lots of positive energy, positive thoughts, lots of light and balance. I was thinking that if we could have as many people as possible join us "virtually" we could give Lisa a tremendous surge.

So wherever you are on Sunday evenings at 6 pm (EST) would you take a few minutes to just think of Lisa and see her as the strong, beautiful, creative, vibrant, loving woman she is. Send her your prayer, meditation, visualization, energy, light or whatever else you may have to share.

In love & light,
In peace & harmony,
Jean McGee

I would like to add that sending a dose of positive, healing energy to Larry and Roxanne and Ruby would probably be a good thing, too, and of course, Reiki practitioners are wholeheartedly encouraged to do their thing, too!

I am contemplating starting up a new separate blog that can be an information clearinghouse of sorts for Lisa. When I speak with her, I will run that by her. Many, many people want to know how she's doing and want to keep in touch.

Best,
Marji

Playing...

Our friend Bob is visiting. He's a big kid, and Liam LOVES wrestling with Bob. Here it is, Sunday night, and Liam is playing with Bob. Bob is sleeping over tonight; our house is about halfway between his weekend home in Delaware County and the house he lives in during the week. Every other weekend, Bob stops by our home for a visit on his way south and then sleeps over and heads home Monday morning.

Liam doesn't have to miss one moment of Bob's visit because of school. I don't know why this thought just occurred to me, but it is a happy thought! It's one more simple, beautiful, sweet reason to love our joy-filled unschooling life.

It's Getting Near Dawn ~ making music together

That's what I'm listening to right now, Liam and Jimmy upstairs playing Sunshine of your Love.

Jim and I grew up feeling tremendous passion for our music, to the exclusion, perhaps, of our familial relationships. I loved singing with my dad, who had a beautiful, sweet, smoky voice and an extensive repertoire, but we weren't going to be rocking out anytime soon! Music, specifically, playing guitar and the songs of the day, was mine, and I pursued it hungrily and passionately. It was discovery for me. Playing music connected me with my deeper self as well as my guitar-playing peers, if there were connections to be made.

But, Liam is coming at music differently than Jim and I did. He's up there playing with Jimmy because of the connection to his dad. Liam loves how happy Jimmy is when they're playing their electric guitars together.

Now, they're jammin' on the blues.

Very cool, this unschooling life!

Man... It's been, uh, a little quiet around here...

I've been a derelict blogger. Not so great at writing about our life, I'm far better at actually living it. My intention here when I started this journal was to keep a diary about our wonderful unschooling life, but I'm so much in the moment with it that I forget to come over here and journal about it. I'm one of those folks who is sure to pack the camera but forget to use it. I was even appropriately kicked out of the unschooling bloggers' ring for being too uncommunicative. Ah, well. I'm hoping they'll give me another chance. I shall try to do better.

:-)

I came back because I'm busting with joy about Liam. He is an amazing, wonderful, super-cool, super-sweet, extremely fun person, and I'm enjoying him as well as our journey together more and more and more.

I have been particularly enjoying his acquisition of literacy, awareness of the world, and other skills that are typically acquired in a school setting in this culture. It is impressive how well he has acquired reading, spelling, math, and other such skills.

But, what's really beautiful to me is that during those years when he would have been contorting himself and forcing his brain to acquire skills he clearly didn't need or want at the time, he was able to acquire and refine other kinds of skills, perhaps not as readily identifiable or quantifiable as reading or calculating the area of a particular circle or knowing the intricate details of the Crimean War.

Liam, while beautifully preserving his child-like nature, even at 13 years of age, is perceptive and wise beyond his years. He is thoughtful and has a self-understanding that I wish I had now, let alone when I was 13 years old and getting myself into all kinds of trouble over my lack of self-awareness and the desire to please others and fit in. He is generous and sees this world as a loving, giving place. He naturally fits into that as a loving, giving person himself.

Another cool aspect of this is that he owns the process! Truly, we all ultimately own the process for acquiring the skills we have, but chances are that we may not know it. We have been led to believe that someone else, someone who may or may not even care about us, deserves credit for the things we learn, a la "If you can read this, thank a teacher." What a load of crap we have bought into! Sure, we can be helped (or hindered) by other folks. But the responsibility and the credit for learning the things we learn fall squarely to and belong solely to the learner, not the so-called teacher!

Liam is aware of this Big Lie, and he is aware of the Bigger Truth. He is aware that it is his fantastic ability to learn, his desire to learn, his ability to decipher and reason and retain and inquire and question...all these things are to his credit and no one else's. He is aware that this is true not only for him but for everyone, only most folks in our society don't get to live that reality as he does. This awareness is so much more empowering than the ability to read or calculate alone.

How fortunate am I to be his mom and be here for this process!?!

I am so acutely aware of how special each and every moment is with him. Forgive me for being morose, but I am keenly aware of how uncontrollable and unpredictable life can be, and I believe that this awareness is a gift that helps me appreciate our nows much, much more.

Because we had discovered and embraced unschooling when Liam was so young, I feel that we have been given a pass to avoid the usual pitfalls that many folks may believe go hand-in-hand with living with a teenager. Liam has always been shown consideration, compassion, empathy, respect, and kindness, and he is now extremely considerate, compassionate, empathic, respectful, and kind. I guess I was that way, too, as a kid, but perhaps a bit more out of fear (fear of punishment, fear of judgment, fear of ridicule, fear of a butt-swatting). Liam knows no fear of these things. He is considerate, compassionate, respectful and kind because it is a cultural norm for him (in our family's culture).

Well, there you have it: a post for February 16, 2008. Liam is sleeping over his friends' house, and I'm sure they're having a blast, as they should be!

Liam understands fully that his purpose for being here on Earth at this time is to live a Joyful Life. How cool is that?

Liam's amazing brain!

Liam: (who had never learned multiplication formally at all) Mom, ask me what anything times anything is.

Me: Uh, okay. What's four times four?

Liam: (pauses for about 15 seconds) 16. (not asking, telling) Ask me something else.

Me: Okay. What's four times eight?

Liam: (again, taking a few moments ~ computing) 32.

And on and on.

So, I ask him how he knows that. Then, he starts to explain his method, which I couldn't repeat to you at all. Whatever's going on up there in his mental computer, I don't get it, but it's his process that he perfected. It's his own.

I told him the process by which I learned to multiply (a room full of 32-plus bored, unhappy children reciting in a dissonant monotone the times table, as dutifully memorized by most of the kids, the rest of the kids improvising by hanging back a little during the recitation to get a clue as to what the number ought to be~~how empowering). Of course, memorizing the times table in that way discouraged anybody considering what these numbers actually meant. All the wonder and joy that I have since discovered about the way numbers work together, all the amazing patterns, well, I didn't get to ponder all that in the school setting. Liam, coming to this through his own method, has the freedom to consider what all these numbers actually mean and their relationships to each other, to make discoveries.

I wanted to pass on to Liam some cool ideas and tricks about multiplication, but he asked me not to. He'd rather make these discoveries himself. I'm positively delighted for him.

My Perspective of Dexter Harold Zintz (1923 - 2006)

I wrote this about my father in September 2006, but I wanted to put it here because, well, I'm thinking of him and I guess I want this piece to be preserved. (You can click on the images to view them in more detail). ~~~~~ My dad died this week. He actually died twice: once instantaneously in my mother's loving, helpless arms last Saturday (it was so quick, he hadn't even had the chance to tell her he was feeling a little funny!), and then again on Tuesday when all four of us--my brother, my sister, my mom, and I--were in alignment about ending life support and snipping the thin tether that bound him to his wrecked, oxygen-deprived body. His name was Dexter Zintz, and he was 83 years old. He was hale and hearty and the most loving man I had ever met. He was strong and active and extremely intelligent (always was). He was fiercely devoted to his family and would put himself to any kind of trouble (without a peep of complaint) if he thought it would pave the way for us or his friends (or even our friends). He was strikingly handsome and had an amazingly beautiful, smoky singing voice that only my family and I got to know about because he was so humble; he only sang to and later with us. He was politically progressive and that made him fun for me to talk to. Although he hated when people spoke unkindly about others, he had many choice words for our current administration. He was my political kindred spirit and he told me how proud he was of me when I'd go to Washington for antiwar marches and my Women in Black demos. Consistent with this, Dad was a true patriot, and he cherished the time that he had spent serving on board the USS Ocklawaha from 1942 to 1945; he was 21 years old when he enlisted, and--brilliant young man that he was--he learned to shoot the stars and was assigned to the ship as its navigator. He once told me that he got special permission to sleep outside under the stars in fair weather as long as he could clear all evidence by daybreak so the ship's commander wouldn't find out. He loved his country, and he hated to see where it has been heading lately. He was an artist, as is my mom, and together they established one of the first studio greeting card companies. It was called Saya Studio; she did the artwork, he did the silk screening. They thrived in that field for about 14 years, but a bad business decision lost them their business. They thought they might have to declare bankruptcy (a total disgrace in those days), but they managed to work together to pay everything off and not lose their house. Furthermore, they also ensured that we kids felt safe and secure during those worrisome, precarious times. Although he could have been anything he wanted to be career-wise, he chose to forego his career in order to support my mom in pursuit of hers. He offered to take care of things at home to allow her to climb the ladder to vice presidency and director of advertising for a corporation. That was back in the 60s when a woman's place was still in the home, not the boardroom. When she retired early, he continued to work as a silk-screener well into his 70s in order to allow my mom to enjoy a freer lifestyle. (Truth is, I was skeptical that he was harboring grumbly feelings about this somewhere inside him, but he told me in all sincerity that anything he could do to ensure Mom's and our happiness gave him happiness. Anyone else I might look sideways at, but I knew he really meant it.) What's more, he supported my very different-from-his parenting style. He was intensely practical and logical and had a strongly analytical mind (which made him a master at bridge). He had his ways of doing things, and he had barely a sliver of tolerance for folks who did things differently than the way he thought they should be done (well, he wasn't perfect, you know). Nevertheless, he had to be biting his tongue a lot when I told him about my homeschooling Liam. Or, when I would gently insinuate myself in their conflicts to protect Liam from Dad's sometimes silly insistence in people doing things his way. I know he supported me, even though I don't think he was absolutely convinced that my educational philosophy would "work." He never argued with me or told me I was ruining my child. Within the last year we, in fact, had a conversation on the phone and he confessed to me that although he understood the concept theoretically and it made sense, he still did not think it was possible for someone to learn to read and calculate without having the information rammed down his throat. He told me during that conversation, "You were right, Marji; I was wrong." He was proud of the way I had given Liam the trust, time, space, and freedom to acquire those and many other skills in his own time and his own way. He loved Liam and his other grandkids fiercely. I wish you could have met him; I wish you could have known him. He was THE best hugger in the whole world (not that I've hugged everyone in the whole world or anything like that, but I can't imagine that anyone could engulf another person in love more sweetly and warmly). He had the warmest smile, the quietest nature, the sweetest disposition, and the biggest heart. He had respect for and gave his time to folks no one else might have given the time of day to (except, of course, Bush, et al.). We buried him yesterday, but I still feel that he is with me and always will be. He's that kind of guy; he would never ditch his wife and kids. Please, if you read this, please share your stories of him if you knew him. I would love to learn more about him through the eyes of the other people whose lives he had touched.

Searching for a fire...

5oSo, I'm sitting there working when I hear the village's volunteer fire department siren sound, which I hear frequently throughout a typical day, even though it's a real small village and there are rarely any fires. This is a little different, though, because 1) I smell smoke, and 2) the fire chief's car just went screaming down the street by my house. Then, another fire car (not a fire truck, mind you). I listen to hear if the vehicles are stopping close by, but I can't tell.

So, off come my headphones and out we go to look for the fire. It is a long walk on a gorgeous spring day, the smell of wood smoke in the air, not unpleasant or noxious, a slight haze, filtered sunlight, and all manner of wood and plant life bent on picking up where they left off at the end of the growing season last year. Even though this is a bustling little agricultural village only about 50 or 60 miles northwest of New York City, sometimes during the day all you can hear are birds and crickets and bees and mosquitoes, and, of course, the odd bark of a dog or more rarely the crow of a rooster. You can go maybe three or five minutes without hearing any cars or airplanes. The main street is not all that far, but the traffic din seldom makes it into my window, only a little ways away.

Anyway, we walk leisurely but purposefully in search of a fire, discussing the possibilities of what we might find, pointing out and naming plants and birds, and each of us remembering and telling tidbits of anecdotes that may be connected or may not be. We see and smell the smoke, but not its source. We walk as far, I suppose, as is practical, all the way up the dead end street to the crest of the highest hill in the village overlooking the vast sea of Black Dirt that is this region's claim to fame (well that, and being the home of the 16- or 17-time Grammy winner for the polka genre!), but still, nothing. No fire.

So, we wind our way back and have lunch. A completely uneventful episode, yet so filled with fun, beauty, and wonder!

Simple pleasures!!

Wheeeee

Liam and Michael are joyfully spending their day today playing WarioWare on the Wii. Reading, problem-solving, hand-eye coordination, joke-making, laughing, time-space orientation, and doing quick mathematical calculations are just some of the benefits! Not to mention all the physical movement that this particular game system requires. Very cool.

S-i-n-g-i-n-g

Liam: (After lying on the bed, petting the cat for a while) Mom, you spell "sing" s-i-n-g, right?
Me: Yep.
Liam: So, you would spell "singing" s-i-n-g-i-n-g?
Me: Yep.
Liam: (laughs)

Simple pleasures.