THE WORLD AT TWO (cont.)
The mother of J (see GWS #6, “The World at Two”), writes:
“J is great. No naps now which means he is super go-power all day with a huge collapse about 7:30. He has his room all to himself now . . . and he really likes to hang out in there alone for an hour and a half most days, driving trucks around mostly. I’ve never seen a kid more into organizing things. He plays with dominoes and calls them either adobes, for building houses, or bales of hay, and has them stacked, lined up, or otherwise arranged in some perfect order; same with the trucks; he’ll scream and yell, as per your theory of two year old behavior, if you snatch him up from a group of trucks and carry him off to lunch. But if you give him a couple of minutes to park them all in a straight line then he’ll come willingly. Your theory (treat them like big people) works out over and over again; brush past him, leave him behind in the snow when you’re hustling up to feed the goats and you get a black and blue screaming pass out tantrum. Treat them “Big” and things roll along. Only hangup is the occasional times you have to take advantage of your superior size and pull a power play. The trick is to learn to avoid the situations that once in a while make that a necessity, like not getting in a rush, and not letting them get so tired they break down completely - like letting dinner be late.”
“As J gets near to, although still fairly far from, school age, I worry about trying to go it on our own; not at all about trying to teach him the basics but about what this little town is going to think because in a way it becomes a put down to them; we’re not going to send our child to that crummy school; while they’re more or less stuck with it. Already people say, ,When J goes to school, etc.’ I just smile and shut up. Also J gets so desperate for kids I’m pretty sure he’s going to want to go to that big building that always has a passel of children running around in front. Sometimes, just driving by houses where he suspects there might be kids, he say, ,I wanna see some kids, mommy.’ Actually, we’re working harder on it and he’s getting to be around more but there are still long gaps.”
I wrote back, suggesting, more or less, that when people talk about J going to school she say, “He’s already going to school,” and that when people ask where, she say, “Right at home.” This in turn made me think of something so obvious that I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it long ago. In GWS #1, I said that if unschoolers are asked by neighbors or other people where their children are going to school, they should reply that the children “are in a special program.” I now think this is a mistake. Unschoolers should never say, or admit, that their children are not “going to school.” They should insist that they are going to school. If people say, “Where?” they should say, “Right here in our own home.”
My strong hunch is that this will satisfy a large number of otherwise critical people. In these days, most people believe in word magic. Not for them the wise advice of Justice Holmes: “Think things, not words.” For them, the word is the thing, the label on the package is the contents. If the label says “New! Fresh! Pure!” it must be new, etc.
Many of these folks have in their minds, among other slogans and rules, the rule that children should “go to school.” If we say that our children are “going to school,” most of them will not get into complicated arguments about what is or is not a school,” or whether our home is really a school, but will be satisfied that the rule is being obeyed. Some, of course, will not be satisfied, will say, “Why aren’t they going to the same school as the other children?” But nothing we said or might say could satisfy these people. For them, school is the Army for kids, a bad experience that they do not want any child to escape.
In saying that our children who are learning at home are “in school,” we are not just tricking people - though we may be doing that. We are also putting into their minds the important and very true idea that children (like everyone else) are always learning, no matter where they are or what they are doing, that the whole world is a learning place for them, that “school” does not have to mean only that big brick building with the cyclone fence and (usually) padlocked gates, but could mean any place at all. It will be much earlier for such people, unless they are real Blue Meanies, to understand and accept later that some of the time - perhaps very little or none - our children may be in the red brick building, but that most of the time they will be “in school” somewhere else.
What I meant by “treat them like big people” was, of course, to treat them in the courteous and respectful way that we big people like to be treated. To snatch any child away from what s/he is doing, in order to do what we want done, is to say to that child, “Your interests and purposes are not serious and do not count.” In the many years I have been watching children and adults together, in homes and in public places, I have seen many two-year-old “tantrums.” Of those I have seen from the beginning (but who knows where anything “begins”?), except for a few that were brought on by exhaustion, almost all seemed to me to have been caused by a needless affront, often unintentional, to the child’s dignity, that is, by someone treating the child as if what s/he was doing, or what s/he thought or wanted, did not count. I have felt and still feel very strongly that most of these tantrums could have been avoided by taking a few extra seconds to show the child the kind of courtesy we would routinely show to another adult.
This mother’s words show once again what nonsense it is to talk about children’s “short attention span.” In HOW CHILDREN LEARN I wrote about an eighteen-month-old child trying to put together a ballpoint pen that she had taken apart. Though the task was much too hard for her small and unpracticed fingers, she worked steadily and patiently at it for at least forty-five minutes. When some of the schools in Great Britain began the unheard-of experiment of letting school children direct and control their own learning, they found that five and six-year-olds would often work on a single task for an entire morning or afternoon, and often for several days at a stretch. Most young children (at least when they are not dreaming, which is also important to them) pay a lot closer attention to the world around them than most adults. Their problem - at least it looks to us like a problem - is that almost everything in the world around them is interesting to them. Also, they see that world as all of a piece; it never occurs to them, as to us, that if they pay attention to this it means that they have stopped paying attention to that.. They don’t think in terms of paying attention to only one thing at a time.
What we really mean when we say that children have short attention spans is that they will not pay attention for very long to the things that we want them to pay attention to. A sensitive and concerned mother has just written me - I get many such letters - to say that she is worried because when she tries to teach her young child letters (or whatever) the child only pays attention for a couple of minutes. She fears there may be something wrong with the child. From the little she has told me, I doubt that there is anything wrong at all. The problem (if we have to think of it as a problem) is that most healthy and curious children don’t like to be taught. The reason is not that they don’t like to learn - they like nothing better. The reason is that they understand very well the unspoken (sometimes unconscious) assumption behind all uninvited teaching: “You are too stupid to understand why this is important, and/or too stupid to see it or find it or figure it out for yourself. Children refuse this kind of teaching as long as they can. If the time comes (as in school) when they can no longer find ways to refuse or escape it, they may soon decide that they are no longer capable of figuring things out, and can only learn when they are made to learn, told what to learn, and shown how. In short, they may soon become as stupid as the parents or teachers or schools believed they were all along. But they don’t start out that way.
SCIENTISTS
Hanna Kirchner, writing in Poland about the work of Janusz Korczak, said, in part:
“He always stressed that by means of learning the everyday expressions from the obscure language of adults, the child tries to fathom the mystery of life. The child’s fragmentary and incomplete knowledge of the world, welded together by imagination, creates a specific ,magic consciousness’ which, as has been discovered in the twentieth century, exists among children and primitive people and may be associated with the origins of poetry.”
She then gives this wonderful quote from Korczak’s book HOW TO LOVE A CHILD:
“[one child says], ,They say there is one moon and yet one can see it everywhere.’
,Listen, I’ll stand behind the fence and you stay in the garden.’ They lock the gate.
,Well, is there a moon in the garden?’,Yes.’,Here too.’They change places and check once again. Now they are sure there must be two moons.”
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And yet they figure out, sooner or later, and by themselves, that there is only one moon. Forgive me for saying what must be obvious to so many GWS readers. Yet I know from experience that there will be many adults, including some who may one day, somewhere, read this piece, who will insist that children only learn there is one moon because adults tell them, and that if we didn’t tell them they would never be able to figure it out.
A SELF-TEACHER
A mother writes from British Columbia:
“My daughter, T, for instance, who is eight, has been very interested in rocks, fossils and Indian artifacts for several years now. I don’t know a great deal about these subjects, but we found some good books at second-hand stores, borrowed some from the library and were even given a pile of lapidary magazines about to be discarded. She has an enormous collection of specimens now (all collected herself), by no means all identified. We packed a box of fossils and pseudo-fossils (Ed. note - have no idea what a pseudo-fossil is) and took them to the Provincial Museum where some very friendly (and slightly bemused) curators did their best to identify them. She has found one artifact which we are pretty sure is the handle of a stone tool of some sort and we will take it to an expert for an opinion. We are also working on a plan for a water-wheel-powered rock tumbler that she can polish stones in. The result has been a lot of learning and I doubt we’ve spent $10.00.
The children follow their interests where they lead and never refer to it as learning or school, and I don’t either. T was interested in Indians and what foods they ate in the old days. Now she horrifies parents when she goes to town and feeds her friends roots from the licorice fern or peeled salmonberry shoots. But she knows much better than the parents, I suspect, what plants and berries shouldn’t be eaten and why.
As far as reading goes, you say that it isn’t difficult to learn to read and compared to some other things we learn I imagine you are right. Still I found it very confusing to explain to my daughter why the letter sounds changed like quicksilver from one word to the next. (Ed. note - but there’s no need to “explain” it, and indeed, no way to explain it.) That’s why I was relieved to find the Open Court 1st grade reading program. I learned a lot of phonetics from it! You need two workbooks, reader 1:1:1 and 1:1:2, each $2.35, and either the Teacher’s Guide for $12.66 or a phono. record of Millie’s story for $6.64. The story introduces and ties together the phonetic sounds. The teacher’s guide has other useful information besides the story but it’s not absolutely necessary. With the books and record, a child could learn by himself.
We don’t use any regular course material now. The books for elementary grades seem terribly superficial - a little bit about lots of things and not very much about anything. I find even young children like to learn about things in detail. T is up to grade level in most aspects of the three R’s - definitely not spelling (taking after her mother, no doubt). (Ed. note - there were no spelling mistakes in this mother’s letter) I would say that we haven’t invested more than one hour a week in the last three years to maintain this level.
T spent a long time choosing a Cricket magazine to send you and I’ve got a feeling she wasn’t looking for the best one. That’s what makes the magazine worth $15, to us anyway. The stories are good and the binding is good, and the children save them carefully and read them again and again. Anyway she was glad to send it as long as it wasn’t a favorite. I read her pieces out of your books sometimes and she’s always interested. She and M, 5, thought the 62 item kindergarten check list (Ed. note - from INSTEAD OF EDUCATION) was very amusing. M said he didn’t use bathroom habits - he likes the tub and the bath toys.
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What I mean about explaining sounds is this - there’ s no more way of explaining why the letter a sounds one way in “cat,” another way in “car,” and still another in “call,” then there is of explaining why we call a dog a “dog” and not a “blif” or “mub.” We just do, that’s all. Pressed, we might say to a child that our grandparents and their grandparents and their grandparents all said it this way for a long, long time back. Pressed still harder yet, we might say that some people make it their work to try to figure out how people talked a long time ago, but that they have to do a lot of guessing, since of course the people aren’t around any more to ask, and didn’t leave any records like tapes or recordings.
I just read from cover to cover the issue of Cricket that T sent, and think it’s wonderful! Stories, poems, articles, illustrations, puzzles - all seem to me just right. Cricket is a monthly ($15/yr., $27.50/2 yrs., $36/3 yrs., from Open Court Publishing Co., 1058 8th St., LaSalle, IL 61301), and a good bargain - there is more material in one issue than in many children’s books.
As for phonics, you don’t need all those materials. (See “Sensible Phonics” in this issue of GWS.)
N.Y. LAW
One of our readers from New York State sent us a letter, which she received from the office of the counsel of the State Education Department in Albany, and which may be of interest to other readers, both in NY and other states. It says, in full:
“Senator Javits has referred your letter of June 26, 1978 to this Department for response.
Pursuant to subdivision 1 of section 3204 of the Education Law, a student may satisfy the compulsory education law by attending upon instruction in “a public school or elsewhere.” In cases such as People v. Turner, 277 App. Div. 317 and In Re Meyer, 203 Misc. 549 (to learn the meaning of those numbers, see ,More From D’ in GWS #3, or ask any lawyer, law student, law librarian, or perhaps the librarian in the reference part of the Public Library), the courts have upheld a parent’s right to instruct his children at home. It is necessary, however, that the local school officials review the proposed course of study to determine whether it is substantially equivalent to that offered in the public schools. I would, therefore, suggest that you contact your chief school officer and arrange to discuss your plan to instruct your child at home.
Enclosed is a Law Pamphlet 9 which describes the process by which the Board of Regents charters an educational corporation. If you wish to operate a school on a profit-making basis, you would follow the provisions of the Business Corporation Law. A further alternative is not to establish a corporation.
Sincerely,
(name)
Associate Attorney
cc: Senator Javits”
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This letter suggests, first, that if you can get your U.S. Senator (or perhaps Representative) to write a letter about home schooling to the state educational authorities, they will respond fairly promptly (in this case, 2 1/2 months, which is probably quite good for state government), and secondly, that they will give you quite complete information. It might be worth finding out, sometime and somewhere, whether the kind of letter a state department of education sends out in response to a letter from a citizen is exactly the same as the letter they send in response to a letter from a U.S. Senator - and if there is a difference, what it is. If some readers make this political mini-experiment, do let us know what you find out.
What may be more important, the letter also suggests that, in New York State at least, the Board of Regents, the chief educational authorities of the state, have nothing to do with chartering profit-making schools. It would be interesting to find out how hard or easy it is, in NY or any other state, to set up a “profit-making” school. We might find out that this was a much easier way for parents to call their own home a school. Readers in NY and elsewhere may want to look into this - if so, again, let us know what you find out.
POLITICS OF KNOWLEDGE
Here are some interesting words about education from one of its earliest and strongest supporters. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (of Sherlock Holmes fame), in the foreword of a book CONSTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION OF THE HUMAN BODY, by Eugen Sandow, published in London in 1907, wrote, in part:
“The strength of a nation is measured by the sum total of the strength of all the units that form it. It is a truism that anything which raises any portion of a man, his body, his character, his intelligence, increases to that extent the strength of the country to which he belongs. Therefore, since the State is so interested in these matters, it has every reason to examine into them and to regulate them. The truth is an obvious one, but it is only within our own lifetimes that it has been practically applied. ,Parents may do what they like with their children, a man may do what he likes with himself.’ So ran the old heresy, which ignored the fact that the State must look after the health of its own component parts. Then came the Education Act of 1870. It was a great new departure. What it said was, ,No, your mind is not your own. (Ed. italics) You may wish to keep it ignorant. But ignorant minds are a danger to the State. Therefore we must force you to keep yourself in better order.’ That is as far as we have got yet in State ownership of the individual.”
Most of those who first pushed through compulsory education thought this way. There were very few Jeffersons among them. But I want to look more closely at another part of Conan Doyle’s thought. “You may wish to keep it ignorant.” What did he mean by “ignorant”?
What he meant was almost certainly that this “you” might not want to learn the kinds of things that rich people knew in those days i.e. Greek, Latin, Ancient History (which they saw as a kind of morality play), Classical Literature, perhaps a little Mathematics. One of the many fringe benefits of being rich and powerful, in any society, is that you are able to say that some kinds of knowledge, i.e. the kind of things you know, are much more important than others, and therefore, that the people who have this knowledge i.e. you and your friends, are much more important and deserving than people who know other things. It is not hard to see why in any society powerful people, whether the rich or simply high government officials, should want to say that the kind of knowledge that most people pick up from everyday life and work is worth less than the kind that can only be picked up in special places.
AN “IGNORANT” MAN
Let’s take a look at one of those “ignorant” men that Conan Doyle was worried about. In his book TRAVELS THROUGH AMERICA, first published in Esquire magazine, Feb. 76, Harrison Salisbury described his efforts to trace the Westward path of some of his ancestors. He describes one of them thus:
” . . . He [Hiram Salisbury] was a man of his time [1815] . . . I scan the journal for clues and reconstruct the post-Revolutionary American. I list his skills, one sheet of scratch paper after another. He knew every farm chore. He milked cows and attended the calves in birth. He physicked his horse. He plowed, he planted, he cultivated, hayed, picked apples, grafted fruit trees, cut wheat with a scythe, cradled oats, threshed grain with a flail on a clay floor. He chopped the corn and put down his vegetables for winter. He made cider and built cider mills. He made cheese and fashioned cheese tongs. He butchered the hogs and sheared the sheep. He churned butter and salted it. He made soap and candles, thatched barns and built smokehouses. He butchered oxen and constructed ox sledges. He fought forest fires and marked out the land. He repaired the crane at Smith’s mill and forged a crane for his own fireplace to hang the kettle on. He collected iron in the countryside and smelted it. He tapped (mended) his children’s shoes and his own. He built trundle beds, oxcarts, sleighs, wagons, wagon wheels and wheel spokes. He turned logs into boards an cut locust wood for picket fences. He made house frames, beams, mortised and pegged. With six men’s help he raised the frames and built the houses. He made a neat cherry stand with a drawer for a cousin, fixed clocks and went fishing. He carved his own board measures (yardsticks) and sold them for a dollar apiece. He fitted window cases, mended locks, and fixed compasses. He hewed timber, surveyed the forest, wrote deeds and shaved shingles. He inspected the town records and audited the books of the Friendship Lodge, the oldest freshwater Masonic lodge in the country (still running). He chipped plows, constructed carding machines, carved gunstocks and built looms. He set gravestones and fashioned wagon hubs. He ran a bookstore and could make a fine coffin in half a day. He was a member of the state’s General Assembly, overseer of the poor, appraiser of property and fellow of the town council. He made hoops by the thousand and also pewter faucets. For many years he collected the town taxes . . .
I have not listed all of Hiram’s skills but enough. I do not think he was an unusual man. Put me in Hiram’s world and I would not last long. Put Hiram down in our world. He might have a little trouble with a computer, but he’d get the hang of it faster than I could cradle a bushel of oats.”
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I tend to agree with Harrison Salisbury that Hiram, though perhaps not an unusual man in his time, would be a most unusual one in ours, far more knowing, skillful, intelligent, resourceful, adaptive, inventive, and competent than most people we could find today, in either city or country, and no matter how schooled.
But the real question I want to raise, and answer, is how Hiram learned all those skills. To be sure, he did not learn them in school. Nor did he learn them in workshops or any other school-like activity. Almost certainly, he learned how to do all those kinds of work, many of them highly skilled, by being around when other people were doing them. Nor were these other people doing the work in order to teach Hiram something. Nobody raised a barn just so that Hiram could see how barns were raised. They raised it because they needed the barn. Nor did they say to him, “Hiram, as long as I have to raise this barn, you may as well come around and learn how it is done.” They said, “Hiram, I’m raising a barn and I need your help.” He was there to help, not to learn - but as he helped, he learned.
Almost a century later John Dewey was to talk about “learning by doing.” The way for students to learn (for example) how pottery is made is not read about it in a book but to make pots. Well, OK, no doubt about it’s being better. But making pots just to learn how it is done still doesn’t seem to me anywhere near as good as making pots (and learning from it) because someone needs the pots. The incentive to learn how to do good work, and to do it, is surely much greater when you know that the work has to be done, that it is going to be of real use to someone.