Late that night, sitting on the verandah,
plucking gently on the strings of her dulcimer, just doodling, deep in thought,
the girl's mother sitting nearby doing some work on her laptop, she is feeling
conflicted. She stops playing and places the dulcimer on a small table nearby.
She picks up a book and begins to flick through it.
This is a book that Rachael, the girl's mum
has left there.. strewing again.. in the hope her husband will pick it up. He
is on board with unschooling but just doesn't seem to get it. She recognises
that he needs a broader knowledge base for them to be able to deepen their
communication.
It has been sitting on a low table against
the wall, amongst the stones, crystals, bones, leaves, feathers, seeds and the
like that Rachael has gathered to leave in this 'interesting things' area.
The book is a brilliant offering from one
of the early unschooling advocates and spells out the issues with the education
system as it has been developed, the need for individuals and society on the
whole to deschool, and the importance of unschooling.
Playing music usually creates focus and
peace, but now there is a tension in her and she feels the need to talk. There
is only sound of the crickets, the occasional flurry of taps on her mother's
keyboard, the sound of the boys playing a game inside.
She looks up at her mother who immediately
looks up from the keyboard with a calm expression, a little smile.
'Mum, school's fucked.' 'Over it, huh?'
Hannah, the girl, has had a look at every
school in the area, enough to satisfy her curiosity.
A couple of them she has heard enough about
on the grapevine.
Two of the others are religious schools
which take students from 4 through 18 years of age and she had taken a look at
them the previous year. She found these were the worst schools for gangs and
bullying, but the strangest thing to her was the authority of the teachers.
The bizarre idea that learning can happen
when someone else is telling us what and how to learn!
This last school she had attended for 3
days, longer than any of the others, perhaps because it was the last one, and
although she is glad of the experience, it is enough.
'School is like a broken model, say like a
model airplane that doesn't work because of a design fault. We can't fix it. We
need to start over, redesign from scratch. I'm still not anti-school, but I
recognise it is a broken model that can't be fixed and needs to be thrown out.
We've learned what not to do.'
Rachael is looking at Hannah with an
understanding smile, nodding gently with bright, moist eyes.
Hannah is now reading the book again, more
intently this time.
Rachael, deeply happy, closes her laptop
and goes inside to prepare a hot cocoa and snack for them all.
The boys, her husband and two young
children, twin boys 9 years of age, pause their game and accept the supper with
gratitude. Still talking about the game while they munch, Rachael picks up a
few things and leaves them to it. She loves the connection her husband has with
the boys.
Out on the verandah, Rachael places a
little tray with a plate and cup next to Hannah, who looks up, her brow
furrowed in concentration. 'This book.. how long has it been sitting here?'
'Oh, a while..'
Rachael had placed the book there a few
months ago. Her husband had picked it up just once, flicked through it and put
it down. He somehow seems to have the idea that he knows it all already, that
unschooling is all very simple, and it is, but it is also very subtle and
complex. A lot to know about what to do, and even more about what not to do.
She can see some issues on the horizon, and is living on trust at present. The
have found a way through so many other obstacles, together.
Hannah has finished her snack, stretches
her arms up high, gets up and gives her mother a hug 'I love you, mum.. they
snuggle into each other, feeling connection and presence, love.. I'm beginning
to get what you've been doing for us.. Rachael's tummy quivered as though she
would cry.. I'm going to sleep with you guys tonight.'
Hannah had left the family bed a couple of
years ago to sleep in a raised den hanging by chains from the ceiling in her
room that her father had made at her request. It is very cozy but now she feels
like nestling with family.
'There's something I need to talk with you
about, but I need a sleep and some time to tune in first.'
She picks up the book and goes inside. Her
mum smiles and cleans up, heart glowing.
The boys are in bed by now, and with sleepy
smiles they wriggle over to allow their sister to snuggle into her spot.
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