I have faults and I've been on the defensive.  Lately, I've been sorting out the origins of my faults, if I can.  I know a few shortcomings I can pin on Mom, a few that came from Dad, some from other friends and family, and more from my social-structural location.

Fault #24: Mental block against washing dishes.

Boy, do I have faults.  I've conquered some of them, embraced others, and am still working on a few.  To get the touchy-feely disclaimer out of the way, I know that I'm using value-laden terms, but there are aspects of my physical and mental person which, if given the chance, I would prefer to refine or discard entirely.  For the sake of parsimony, I'll just keep saying "fault."  And yeah, we're all different, with strengths and weaknesses, part of life's rich tapestry, unique snowflakes, tiresome clichés, et cetera.

Fault #95: Cannot "roll" tongue.

Okay, with that out of the way, we'll move on.  To whom, or what, could I attribute my lack of proficiency with any musical instrument?  I have nice childhood memories of Dad playing the guitar, but it didn't rub off on me.  I actually had lessons, but I lost interest and stopped.  Wait, have I exposed a larger flaw?  Do I lack self-discipline?  Sometimes—uh-oh, I better stop pursuing this train of thought, because that's what the naysayers said.  Were they right?  Do I lack self-discipline because I was unschooled?

Fault #167: Overuse of questions as rhetorical devices in writing.

The guitar/self-discipline example is one of many thought processes I have undergone that dead-end at "what if it's because I was unschooled?"  That's when I feel the weight of a unique burden.  I have recently realized that I have carried the subconscious belief that my personal success in life is tied to the success of unschooling as a method of childrearing.  When I was an overly sensitive child who got upset when people laughed at something I said, that was a failure of unschooling.  When I never went back to that kids' acting class, that was another failure of unschooling.  Unschooling succeeded when I participated fully in conversations with adults and when I became a computer whiz.  When I get my Ph.D., unschooling will succeed fabulously.  If I drop out, unschooling will have failed, and we will all be very, very disappointed in it.

Of course, in unschooling-style reasoning, the success/failure dichotomy isn't even applicable in those ways.  If I had stayed with the acting class despite hating every minute of it, that would have been more of a "failure."  But it's so much easier to prove that a method of education works if its students excel in traditional pathways.  Empirical evidence is convincing, as it should be.

So, although it helped when my parents told me that they'd be proud of me "no matter what" I did, society at large seemed to doubt that I'd have the skills to do anything at all because I was unschooled.  Yes, of course, they were wrong, but they have nevertheless had an effect.  When I'm dealing with a personal problem, or even learning something new that is technically pre-college material, there is a dimension of embarrassment and defensiveness about my shortcomings and/or ignorance that comes directly from the voices of those unschooling naysayers.
I'm not trying to lay blame on the schooling majority.  With few exceptions, people I've known who have criticized unschooling have done so with a perfectly reasonable level of skepticism.  I'm simply dealing with the effects of being a minority.

This is the first time I've fully articulated that point.  I had to come to it gradually—first I had to realize that there are just too many variables in my life for me to attribute any one of my traits to unschooling.  That realization and acceptance has allowed me to let go of defensiveness and embarrassment.  I can now separate the success of unschooling and the success of myself as a person.

When I am asked how I would be different if I had gone to regular school, I no longer say, "I would have gotten frustrated and dropped out."  I say, "I don't know."

When someone tells me that unschooling wouldn't work for everyone, I no longer say, "Yes it can, if the parents trust enough."  I shrug and say, "If not, that's one of the things it has in common with school."

Unschooling parents are, by definition, the type of parents who involve themselves enough in their children's education to change methods if the current one isn't working.  Therefore, it's hard to find an unschooling failure story because of that selection effect.  When a professor pointed this out to me (more succinctly), I had to agree with him.

I no longer focus on defending unschooling as if it were my own reputation at stake.  On the contrary—sometimes I use it as an excuse for my behavior, for comic effect.  If I misunderstand something, or don’t know a fact that seems to be common knowledge to everyone else in the room, I’m quick to say, “Go easy on me, I don't know because I never went to school.”  I can say that because I don’t believe it.  I understand now that such occasional ignorance is part of life as an imperfect human being.  My parents were always quick to assure me that such was the case, but I had to learn for myself that despite being unschooled, I was normal.

Laurie Chancey is the only child of Valerie Fitzenreiter and Wyatt Chancey.  She was unschooled from birth until college, and is now a Ph.D. student in sociology at Louisiana State University.  Laurie has been an occasional willing participant in print, broadcast, and electronic media reports about her life.  Visit her website at www.chancey.info