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Shine
With Unschooling... |
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On
sports and perfectionism:
Maybe you can go and pick up a basketball set so she can shoot hoops
indoors? My 5yr and 7yr LOVE this over-the-door basketball hoop with a
long net that rolls the ball back to you. It came with a timer /
scorekeeper that they have fun with too. My BIL got it for my son last
xmas, and it still hasn't lost its appeal.
You can support her new passion and not be concerned about the cold,
getting dark early, etc. She can just keep shooting baskets (or trying
to) as long as she needs to.
It is hard to watch our kids wrestle with frustration, disappointment,
and perfectionism. My DS can get very engrossed in a (video) game and
get so upset trying to get past a certain part that's giving him
trouble. He'll yell at the game, cry, punch the couch cushions, tell
me that he hates that game and is going to throw it away, etc. But he
doesn't want to stop playing it. He has to finish the
task he set
for himself.
It's hard for me to zip my lips, but I've found that the
more I talk to him about his frustration the more ticked off he gets.
If I can give him the freedom and time to work through it on his
own (with me nearby for support if he decides he needs me) I've found
that he'll get over that hurdle, and he's so happy with himself for
accomplishing what he was trying to do.
—Tracy
I reflect, I empathize, I bring out food and
water and
warm clothes. I have sometimes commented on how important this
must be to her and wondered aloud what draws her to it, have
mentioned that I've never seen
anyone make a shot EVERY time.
You may already be doing this, but I know with my boys, the most
helpful thing I can say when they're frustrated is also the simplest:
"You really wanted to do that, didn't you?"
Riley in particular will just melt when I say that, instead of
resisting my attempts to help or validate. Fisher will tend to yell,
but he also starts talking it out then—ll the things that
went
wrong—and he usually wasn't able to tell me that before I
just
validated that particular intense desire.
"You really wanted to do that." It's kind of like magic around here,
and often things can move on after I've said that and they've had a
chance to voice it, too.
.
—Amy
I can relate to all that you are saying. In retrospect, lookingback on
Jake's frustrating perfectionist times, it was so all-consuming in
that moment, and yet, he would eventually
come to the conclusions
that I
was wanting to just TELL him all through his growing and learning
process.
But, of course, he wouldn't listen. Even if I said
something to him,
he
would immediately disagree with it.
And then some time later (sometimes a day, sometimes a week...with
guitar
playing, it was like a month when he was stuck in a
frustrating-perfectionist mode—and it also involves very
negative
self-talk for him, too—because he tends to be implosive
rather than
explosive), he will come to me to
share a holy enlightenment moment
that
he had...which is exactly everything I had wanted to just hand him to
save
us all some pain.
This is part of Who He Is. As frustrating and painful it is to live
through
it with him, it is Who He Is.
And, as painful and frustrating as it is for all of
us (for the rest
of
us, it's just painful to watch our boy be in pain), we also see that
it's a
wonderful thing. It is HOW he learns when he decides to push himself.
THIS is what's amazing. That our children decide—on their
own—to
do
something and then they push themselves to fulfill a vision they have
of
them doing that thing.
This is one of the ten million reasons why I could never imagine this
child
in school. Everything in his own time, in his own way.
When Jake is going through this, I have to constantly be talking to
myself.
I have to tell myself to validate the frustration instead of handing
him a
solution—or at least a new way to look at it. Nothing else is
acceptable
in those moments.
And I do add, "I think you can do it." Because I can see his heart
hurting
and needing that spark.
I trust (because I have seen it and lived it time and time again) that
he
will work through it and when he has worked through it, he will have
decided
for himself just HOW important this is to him...whether or not he
REALLY
wants to keep pushing himself, or if he wants to let it go (it does
become
easier for him to let it go eventually...). The words that I say are
not
important at the time when he is going through this. It's the energy I
give
to him.
Nothing is impossible, really. I believe that. If my child wanted to
accomplish the goal of making EVERY basket that he through at a hoop, I
would add, "I think you can do it." My child needs that spark of hope,
that
support of a dream, and that positive perspective when he
is feeling
like
a failure himself.
He won't hold me to it if he decides this is not a worthwhile pursuit.
He
will remember that when he needed
it, someone was there trusting in
him
and trusting in the Universe to help him to fulfill his dreams/goals.
—Anne
Because
the vision in her
head is not simply to make every basket eventually,
or to reach
that dream some day,.... The possibility of going
back in time and making it so that the reality matches up the vision;
so that a basket was made.
I do very much get this, as I
have always had a tendency to want hang on to the past—even
to want
to go back a moment so I can change it, so I can undo that mistake.
When I was a younger I often played the "if I could go back" game in
my mind—and found it could be helpful for figuring out
current
issues, if I didn't get stuck in the past.
For me, it's been helpful to recognize that the one-way nature of Time
itself is frustrating and kind of unfair! My mind can replay the
moment, can go back and change it—but I can't actually do
it in
reality. What a funny universe, that we have a mind that can move
back and forth in time, but a body that cannot!
For me, that led to an informal study of Einstein and alternate
theories about time (I've found some great ones!), because I do find
it very interesting and strange. That used to show up in my fiction a
lot.
For your dd, I might suggest validating and wishing with her. "I
wish we could
go back and make that basket go in! I wish, wish,
wish!!!"
Sometimes my kids and I will start wishing and we'll try a few "magic"
moves to see if our wish will come true (and yes, I have an attitude
of "I hope, but, um, I don't know that this will work, let's see
...").
Sometimes the game "Time Machine" that I've talked about before on
this list seems to crop up soon after.
Sometimes we just talk about what we might do if ... if we could go
back in time, if we had a million dollars, etc., and that seems to
loosen up the tension because we're just talking about it, playing
around with it.
Eventually, we find some acceptance, some gratitude for this path that
we didn't plan on and didn't mean to choose, but here we are, learning
from the things we didn't plan on.
I don't know if that will be helpful, but I had been meaning to tell
you for a while that I didn't think you were rambling, I thought you
had made a helpful distinction about why it was more difficult to be
positive about changing things that had already happened in the past.
—Amy
On finding the shine:
We started homeschooling Logan & Cooper 2 years ago in the 3rd
grade. For Logan, one of the main reasons was because he was
diagnosed as dyslexic and was in special ed. and had tutors, etc.
All of my reading, soul-searching, and dramatic changes in
perspective about everything led to seeing him completely through
the eyes of love, instead of love and labels. After we pulled Logan
out of school I said to him, "Honey we made a big mistake. There is
nothing wrong with your reading. There is nothing wrong with you. You
don't have a 'glitch' (the word we used instead of dyslexia). The
people in the schools think that everyone should do things at
the same time, and we know that isn't true. You will read when you
are ready." He was happy to hear this, and has spent the last
couple of years recounting different stories of how they made him
feel wrong and pressured (which always breaks my heart).
He has read very little for the last two years, a little bit on
video games, a word here or there, but mostly I have read to him
(and Cooper) and we listen to lots of audio books. When we left
school he was not reading chapter books and trying to read anything
was a struggle.
Most of these two years I have trusted my boy, trusted all of you,
and trusted that All Is Well. I also had moments where I
thought, "This is crazy! I am doing him a terrible disservice. All
the experts say you have to do early intervention, you have to do
something!" Then I would look at my beautiful boy and FEEL how much
I love him and remember how perfect he is and I would relax back
into Well-Being.
Logan is a Cub Scout and he wants to earn his Arrow of Light award.
Today we sat down with the Cub Scout book and I started to read to
him the chapter on scientists, which is the one he picked to start
with. He said, "Let me read it Mom." This has not happened in two
years. I said OK, but my stomach did a little lurch. He picked up
the book and starting reading a complicated passage on Bernoulli's
principle (physics) almost perfectly. I didn't want to stop him with
my tears, but I couldn't help it. It was such a moment of beauty!
Oh my, the joy he felt when he realized what was happening!! He
began dancing around the house, "I can read! I can read! I want to
read everything!" He began running around looking at everything
with words and reading it. He then wanted to go to the library to
get books—he has hated going to the library until today—so we went
and he was grabbing books off the shelf with such joy and
anticipation! He filled his bag with 25 books, and on the way home
he started reading to us a book on Galileo! He continued to talk
about how much he loved reading and how he feels like the world is
opening up for him.
So I'm driving, wiping the tears from my eyes as he is reading to us
a complicated text on Galileo (not perfectly of course, but
AMAZINGLY) and silently thanking all of you (especially you Anne)
for helping me keep the faith. I was silently singing the praises
of you wonderful women who virtually hold my hand as I walk this
road less traveled with my family.
Tonight he was still reading Galileo to me, with pleasure and pride
and excitement about what he was learning. I was still crying with
love and gratitude and joy about the wonder of this unschooling
life, and my great good fortune to have found all of you.
I know this is an everyday story in unschooling lives, but here, in
my heart, it is a miracle.
With love and light,
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