Anti-school? No.. unschooling

After leaving the English teacher to process his awakening and his newfound commitment to change the system from within by being here for the children, the unschooling girl skips across the small quadrangle to the music room. As she slips into one of the desk seats the teacher looks up with a little nod and smile before going back to thumbing through a small stack of CDs.

Very soon the rest of the children shuffle, stumble, get pushed into and swagger into the room amidst a cacophony of chatter, shouts, laughter, throwing of bags onto the floor and dragging of chairs which slowly subsides as they settle in for their first music lesson.

The girl had a bemused smile throughout all this as she observed the room. A couple of music charts, a whiteboard, a laptop and CD player. Not a musical instrument in sight, but there is a promising looking cupboard across one end of the room.

It strikes her as a little odd that the group of children has moved holus bolus from the English classroom to the music classroom, as though they are all expected to be interested in the same thing.

The teacher suddenly says 'Ah, that'll do nicely' and places a CD in the player, turns to the class and asks 'Does anyone play any musical instruments?' The girl, seated near the middle of the group, slightly off to one side, said 'I play ukulele and dulcimer.'

A few giggles erupt from here and there and the teacher says 'A simple hand will do.. she notices there are a few hands in the air.. There will be opportunity to play in the school band next year. This year we will learn about music, some music history and theory and play some simple instruments.. with a quick glance at the cupboard wall.. and we'll begin with listening to some music.

Pay attention, because I will be asking questions later.'

A quick press of a button and classical music begins to fill the room, just like that. Huh. Ok..

The girl closes her eyes in appreciation. It's a full bodied piece, rich in imagery, which isn't quite what she would choose, however it will do. We make the most of what we're given.

The experience with the English teacher has left her with a need for relaxation.

It is certainly energising living authentically but it is also draining. It requires a lot of work, work that cannot be done unless we know how to do it, and once we do know, it is work that must be done, for to sit and say nothing is not wise, it blocks the flow and closes us off to self love, and that's just not healthy in any aspect.

So she sits, listening, relaxing, tuning in, finding source and recharging.

Suddenly she hears the music teacher's voice, loud now and threatening, 'How dare you go to sleep in my class?!' She thinks 'Oh man, you've got to be kidding me!', opens her eyes and sure enough, the angry eyes are upon her. 'Well, what have you got to say for yourself?' Hmm, seeing as you ask... aargh, she looks up to the ceiling and down again with a sigh of submission to the process to return her gaze to the teacher who meanwhile turns to switch off the CD player in order to hear the girl's reply.

Meanwhile the boy, the story writer slips from his chair and out the door to quizzical looks from a couple of the other boys.

He knows from experience that no-one will miss him, really notice or care that he's gone. His spirit had been crushed years ago in early primary school due to some intensive and persistent racial bullying, and he had since then become invisible, avoiding attention, never answering questions in class though he invariably knew the answer, his voice silenced, writing being the best way he could feel alive, albeit in another world.

He had been sitting just behind the girl, in line with her and the teacher, and thought the accusation was directed at him. He hadn't been tuning in to source. He had no self love whatsoever. Music was another transport to the other world, away from this one.

He knew this piece well, and had been experiencing a phantasmagorical dimension, flying through far alpine mountain passes, ancient stonework and tunnels when the teacher's words shattered the illusion and he was faced with those terrible harsh eyes and the spectre of public humiliation.

He doesn't leave the room consciously much at all, it is just that he feels he will pee himself and needs to get to the toilet. As it happens, on getting outside he doesn't need to pee but just to get away so he walks home.

Out of fearful reaction, the boy's brain has just closed off some core networks, and he will never see with inner vision again, or appreciate music anywhere near to the extend where he lived the music as before. He won't be ok after all.

The girl, completely unaware of what has happened to the boy, along with everyone else on the planet, including the boy, says loudly, clearly and firmly to the teacher, and the group, 'Asleep.. Asleep! Y'know, when I was listening to that wonderful music I was probably more awake than you have been for a long time, maybe in your entire life!' 'What exactly do you mean by that? Are you on drugs, young lady? You had your eyes closed the entire time!'

There are a few snickers around the room at the drugs reference, and more than one child knows something is about to happen. 'Uh-oh', 'Here we go', 'Better get ready to face the music'.

The repartee is quickly silenced by a flash of the teacher's eyes.

Meanwhile the girl is breathing in and out, saying to herself 'Relax now', tuning in and feeling her connection, her gentle words arising from source, 'How long is it since you closed your eyes and listened, really listened to a piece of music? Let it carry you away and bring you to presence at the same time?'

The teacher's brow furrows, eyes flicking around quickly, alighting on nothing in the external. Snorting once gently, head nodding slowly a few times, 'Ok, let's listen to it again, eyes closed and we'll finish it this time, everyone.' and restarts the CD.

Just before they close their eyes, the teacher catches her eye with a piercing look of appraisal and gratitude, a few almost imperceptible nods of the head, met with a scrunch of the girl's lower lip and a lift of her chin followed by a slight smile and a knowing look. There were a few groans from some of the children but many, and not the least the teacher closed their eyes to bliss out and be transported by this powerful music.

When the piece had reached its crescendo and settled to silence, the teacher after a minute asked the girl 'Who was your music teacher in primary school?' Another child chimed in 'She didn't have a teacher, she's anti school!'

She looked with knowledge in her eyes at this child 'No, I'm not anti school or I wouldn't be here. I unschool. I learn with my family, with my friends, wherever, and whenever. I do what I feel and what I want, follow my bliss. It's awesome!.. and turning to the teacher.. music, I learn myself, and with my friends and family. Sometimes I take some lessons, but usually I just play.' 'Yes, but can you read music?' 'Well, my friend who teaches piano says she doesn't know anyone who can sight read as well as I can..' 'So where did you learn to do that?' 'Learned m'self!'

There was an odd kind of tension in the room as the children began to pick up their bags and leave, more thoughtful perhaps.

'Just one more thing..' She turns to look at the teacher, who is definitely seriously thoughtful. 'Mm-hmm?' 'What are you doing here?' 'When I was little, my parents practiced strewing.. a quizzical look from the teacher.. you know, scattering things and ideas around for me to pick up and explore as I chose, and I kinda got used to it,.. they're alone in the room by now.. so now I see all these different kinds of schools around the place and I'm just picking them up to have a look, see what they're all about and whether they will assist me in my process.' 'And have you learned anything?' 'Oh, yeah, I'm learning, but I'm always doing that!' 'Alright, I'll see you next week, and we'll listen to some more music, hmm?' 'Umm, yeah, well, next week this may not all be here. There's only now. It's been real. Seeya!'

She walked out into the fresh air, 'Lunchtime, and I'm frikkin starving! At least they've got something worked out right around here!'