Today, dear daughter followed up her regular music lessons with a piano masterclass. It was good fun - the participants all got to hear each others' favourite pieces and had some input from an expert pianist who doesn't normally teach them. All very friendly and relaxed. And very heaven for kids who are that way inclined.
But - even though she was doing something she loved - the extra hours mean that she was busy from 10 in the morning to almost 8 in the evening. Of course, so were the other children involved in this activity. But only dd and the 2 other home educated children at the music classes were able to go home comfortable in the knowledge that tomorrow they don't have to face another 5 full days at school before they can get a decent break. When did kids' lives become so frantic?
Back when she was at school, dd and her pals had chess club, book club, or swimming club on a Monday, choir on a Tuesday, drama or hockey on a Wednesday, piano lessons or pottery on a Thursday, orchestra on a Friday. The sporty ones would have matches on the Saturday (the less sporty might have art or history groups), and then most had some kind of organized activity like dance classes or horse riding on a Sunday. In between all of this frenetic activity, there was masses of homework ... and, of course, full school days. No room to breathe, no room to stand and watch the seasons change, no sense that they could just 'be'.
And then there are the other kids - the ones that so concern Ed BALLS (sorry, I always feel like I have to capitalize his so apt surname). These young people have no access to organized activities whatsoever and their presence on street corners causes middle England much angst. Just think of any of the recent TV accounts of 'brave' celebs such as Jamie Oliver venturing into the badlands and count the images of bored kids.
This is where class divisions now seem most obvious: our young people are so obviously tiered into those that 'do' activities and those that 'don't'. And the gap seems to widen to the point that the do-ers are pushed to the verge of a breakdown and don't-ers are bored to the point of desperation.
Of course, there's an alternative and home educators are living it. Our children can follow their own interests with as much passion as they can muster, and are free to recover with an easier pace of life the next day. That way, energy is expended on real discovery rather than busy-work. Strange that this is the very rhythm that the government are trying to disrupt by dictating what constitutes a "suitable education".
As far as I can see, children engaging with mainstream education have to face yet another stark multiple choice question: Do you want to be (a) absolutely frantic or (b) fantastically apathetic?
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Being in the world
This week, we've had some really nice encounters with the real world. You know, that place that exists outside of the classroom.
We joined several other home educators at the beach on Monday, where dear daughter got chest deep in the North Sea ... in T-shirt and cargo pants (well, early that morning it hadn't looked like the weather would be good enough for more than paddling!). The drenching was worth it, and thankfully we could pull together enough spare clothes to drive home relatively dry. It's lovely to watch how these young people, aged from toddler to teenager, interact with and look out for each other.
Today, we were in a different kind of real world. Some time ago, we signed up to volunteer at a local museum and we've been for a few visits over the last month or so in order to establish where we'd most like to work. We've seen large object stores, photographic archives, exhibits, repair sheds. Literally behind the scenes at the museum. Typically pre-teen, dd chose not to be a costumed interpreter. But we both took to the idea of oral history, myself because I like doing interviews; dd because she wants to show off her typing speeds when transcribing. (Her typing IS scarily good - over 60 wpm, mainly through exposure to role playing computer games). So, this afternoon was our training session for oral history. We heard an amazing recording of an elderly lady remembering a moment in her childhood when she sneaked out in her nightdress to join the celebrations after the relief of Mafeking. Just magical stuff, to sit in a present day room and to hear that voice from the recent past, talking about the more distant past. Anyone who believes technology has no soul would have to think again after hearing that recording.
The age range of the course participants was from 12 to 83, and part of our training was to interview one another. What fascinated and slightly surprised me was just how good and sensitive an interviewer my daughter can be. I heard her interview someone about her first job during the 1960s. DD asked intelligent questions, allowed space for 'thinking pauses' (apparently, many adults jump in too quickly and miss important information), and she managed to move things forward without interrupting the speaker. She was also able to envisage herself in the role of an interviewee. When asked what she'd talk about when she's an older person, she reckoned, "I'd talk about my laptop, because they'll be obsolete by then". I was so proud to be her mum and realized how often (no matter how well I think that I know her talents, interests and personality) I can still understimate her.
I'm slowly learning that the less I actively demand of my daughter, the more that I can expect her to willingly give.
We joined several other home educators at the beach on Monday, where dear daughter got chest deep in the North Sea ... in T-shirt and cargo pants (well, early that morning it hadn't looked like the weather would be good enough for more than paddling!). The drenching was worth it, and thankfully we could pull together enough spare clothes to drive home relatively dry. It's lovely to watch how these young people, aged from toddler to teenager, interact with and look out for each other.
Today, we were in a different kind of real world. Some time ago, we signed up to volunteer at a local museum and we've been for a few visits over the last month or so in order to establish where we'd most like to work. We've seen large object stores, photographic archives, exhibits, repair sheds. Literally behind the scenes at the museum. Typically pre-teen, dd chose not to be a costumed interpreter. But we both took to the idea of oral history, myself because I like doing interviews; dd because she wants to show off her typing speeds when transcribing. (Her typing IS scarily good - over 60 wpm, mainly through exposure to role playing computer games). So, this afternoon was our training session for oral history. We heard an amazing recording of an elderly lady remembering a moment in her childhood when she sneaked out in her nightdress to join the celebrations after the relief of Mafeking. Just magical stuff, to sit in a present day room and to hear that voice from the recent past, talking about the more distant past. Anyone who believes technology has no soul would have to think again after hearing that recording.
The age range of the course participants was from 12 to 83, and part of our training was to interview one another. What fascinated and slightly surprised me was just how good and sensitive an interviewer my daughter can be. I heard her interview someone about her first job during the 1960s. DD asked intelligent questions, allowed space for 'thinking pauses' (apparently, many adults jump in too quickly and miss important information), and she managed to move things forward without interrupting the speaker. She was also able to envisage herself in the role of an interviewee. When asked what she'd talk about when she's an older person, she reckoned, "I'd talk about my laptop, because they'll be obsolete by then". I was so proud to be her mum and realized how often (no matter how well I think that I know her talents, interests and personality) I can still understimate her.
I'm slowly learning that the less I actively demand of my daughter, the more that I can expect her to willingly give.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
The powers that be and the wonderful Elliotts
I've recently been pulling together a presentation for a conference about visual representations of "Northern-ness". My bit focuses on the TV documentaries made in the 1960s by Philip Donnellan (http://www.philipdonnellan.co.uk/index.asp) about the Elliott family of Birtley. The Elliotts were a mining family: folksingers, working-class heroes, atheists, all-round iconoclasts and good eggs (http://www.petewood.co.uk/elliotts%20of%20birtley.htm ). I'm really privileged to know a couple of members of the family and to have played at their long-running folk club.
In 1962, Donnellan made a half hour film about them entitled "Private Faces". It was never shown. The powers that be decided that it was inappropriate viewing: too many jump cuts, too much rough editing, too much swearing, and the impertinence of Donnellan discussing religious beliefs with the family. Donnellan knew that the real reason that the film couldn't be shown was political censorship: here were working people who did not know their place. They had no need of a mediator to tell their story, and their articulate and reasoned discussion of Darwin and Hegel and community and society must have utterly undermined the cosy assumptions of the media paternalists. They were just not the right sort of working class.
What's this doing on a home education blog? Well, I can't get it out of my head that similar assumptions are being made on our behalf now by a paternalistic state. Home educators are today's uppity workers. We've been given this 'world-class education' by professional educators and bureaucrats - if we dare to challenge its predominance, then we're not just ungrateful, we are dangerous and require suppression. We're just not the right sort of parents.
In 1962, Donnellan made a half hour film about them entitled "Private Faces". It was never shown. The powers that be decided that it was inappropriate viewing: too many jump cuts, too much rough editing, too much swearing, and the impertinence of Donnellan discussing religious beliefs with the family. Donnellan knew that the real reason that the film couldn't be shown was political censorship: here were working people who did not know their place. They had no need of a mediator to tell their story, and their articulate and reasoned discussion of Darwin and Hegel and community and society must have utterly undermined the cosy assumptions of the media paternalists. They were just not the right sort of working class.
What's this doing on a home education blog? Well, I can't get it out of my head that similar assumptions are being made on our behalf now by a paternalistic state. Home educators are today's uppity workers. We've been given this 'world-class education' by professional educators and bureaucrats - if we dare to challenge its predominance, then we're not just ungrateful, we are dangerous and require suppression. We're just not the right sort of parents.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
NASA aspirations
On Monday, we went to a talk by former NASA astronaut, Rhea Seddon (http://www.jsc.nasa.gov/Bios/htmlbios/seddon.html ). Very interesting it was, too. - she was one of the first women on the space programme, and she talked us through a video of one of her space shuttle flights. Fascinating facts included what astronauts do with their time-off (they climb on top of each other to see how easy it is for the person at the bottom of the pile to do a press-up in zero-g). We also learned that, technically, those in the space shuttle don't really experience zero-g. They're still within the earth's orbit, so what they experience is more of a kind of giant, very low gravity free-fall.
Anyway, we were a small group of home educators among a swathe of school uniforms and there were odd bits of the talk that were clearly designed to motivate the schoolchildren. We were told by someone other than Rhea that we shouldn't be disruptive in maths lessons (!), to which our astronaut added that the harder you work, the luckier you get (I thought, "Ha! Tell that to the miners"). But, all in all, it was a fascinating event and Rhea's presentation skills were inspirational. She talked for an hour without notes, hesitation or repetition, and was really persuasive. I wonder if there's something in the US water system that makes people so much better at speaking? Oh no, I forgot, that would make Dubya an amazing orator.
All the children had their photos taken with Rhea, and while we were waiting in the autograph queue, we got chatting to a young guy in a jumpsuit who is working for Virgin's new space tourism programme. I couldn't help wondering if we could volunteer Badman for a one-way ticket.
Anyway, we were a small group of home educators among a swathe of school uniforms and there were odd bits of the talk that were clearly designed to motivate the schoolchildren. We were told by someone other than Rhea that we shouldn't be disruptive in maths lessons (!), to which our astronaut added that the harder you work, the luckier you get (I thought, "Ha! Tell that to the miners"). But, all in all, it was a fascinating event and Rhea's presentation skills were inspirational. She talked for an hour without notes, hesitation or repetition, and was really persuasive. I wonder if there's something in the US water system that makes people so much better at speaking? Oh no, I forgot, that would make Dubya an amazing orator.
All the children had their photos taken with Rhea, and while we were waiting in the autograph queue, we got chatting to a young guy in a jumpsuit who is working for Virgin's new space tourism programme. I couldn't help wondering if we could volunteer Badman for a one-way ticket.
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Here we go ...
Well, I suppose it's just a facet of my impeccable timing.
The first time I decide to start a blog about our new, exciting, school-free lives just happens to coincide with the publication of the government's latest attack on home educators. So what should be a happy first post ("Here we are and isn't this all lovely?") is now an angry one.
Graham Badman's report seems a particularly nasty specimen. Draconian recommendations include universal compulsory registration, plus the right of local authority staff to enter homes and to interview children without their parents present.
http://www.freedomforchildrentogrow.org/8318-DCSF-HomeEdReviewBMK.PDF
This is being justified with reference to child welfare 'concerns'. Home educators are being comprehensively and unjustly painted by both this report and the media as potential abusers: the assumption seems to be that we are guilty till proven innocent. Imagine the uproar if they attempted a similar smear campaign with reference to any other minority group: say, homosexuals, BME communities, faith groups. ... I'd like to think we're a sensible enough nation for there to be uproar. But somehow there seems to be a big blindspot with regard to elective home education.
Just as bad are the recommendations relating to monitoring and ensuring provision of a 'suitable education'. Oh, now that's a can of worms - please would someone tell me what a 'suitable education' looks like? Heaven help us all if it has any similarity to the national curriculum. And there are some very ill-informed assumptions about autonomous approaches. Badman appears to believe that autonomously educating parents simply leave their children to their own devices. He cannot have bothered to read any of the literature about being present and interested, about strewing opportunities (for the child to accept or reject), about the very real and well-documented benefits of allowing children to read when they are ready rather than according to an external schedule.
It's not really surprising that the government are acting quickly on a report they commissioned and (I suspect) pretty much wrote prior to the 'consultation'. But the short-sighted model of this research only emphasizes the shortcomings of the way we educate people today. It looks like they're acting on a standard national curriculum model: find the easy solution (if it doesn't have a textbook, just Google it), isolate the scapegoat, build an additional layer of draconian bureaucracy, standardize, standardize, standardize, and never genuinely question your original assumption. Oh, I despair.
Jude x
The first time I decide to start a blog about our new, exciting, school-free lives just happens to coincide with the publication of the government's latest attack on home educators. So what should be a happy first post ("Here we are and isn't this all lovely?") is now an angry one.
Graham Badman's report seems a particularly nasty specimen. Draconian recommendations include universal compulsory registration, plus the right of local authority staff to enter homes and to interview children without their parents present.
http://www.freedomforchildrentogrow.org/8318-DCSF-HomeEdReviewBMK.PDF
This is being justified with reference to child welfare 'concerns'. Home educators are being comprehensively and unjustly painted by both this report and the media as potential abusers: the assumption seems to be that we are guilty till proven innocent. Imagine the uproar if they attempted a similar smear campaign with reference to any other minority group: say, homosexuals, BME communities, faith groups. ... I'd like to think we're a sensible enough nation for there to be uproar. But somehow there seems to be a big blindspot with regard to elective home education.
Just as bad are the recommendations relating to monitoring and ensuring provision of a 'suitable education'. Oh, now that's a can of worms - please would someone tell me what a 'suitable education' looks like? Heaven help us all if it has any similarity to the national curriculum. And there are some very ill-informed assumptions about autonomous approaches. Badman appears to believe that autonomously educating parents simply leave their children to their own devices. He cannot have bothered to read any of the literature about being present and interested, about strewing opportunities (for the child to accept or reject), about the very real and well-documented benefits of allowing children to read when they are ready rather than according to an external schedule.
It's not really surprising that the government are acting quickly on a report they commissioned and (I suspect) pretty much wrote prior to the 'consultation'. But the short-sighted model of this research only emphasizes the shortcomings of the way we educate people today. It looks like they're acting on a standard national curriculum model: find the easy solution (if it doesn't have a textbook, just Google it), isolate the scapegoat, build an additional layer of draconian bureaucracy, standardize, standardize, standardize, and never genuinely question your original assumption. Oh, I despair.
Jude x
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