Secrets of the logbook

Last fall, I decided to keep a logbook of our homeschooling activities: what we planned, what we did, how it went, etc.
It is my understanding, that in the state of Illinois, I am not required to keep any such record of our activities. Pretty early in the game, I realized that the desire to keep a logbook stemmed from my own insecurity about the "success" or our homeschooling adventure. I needed concrete evidence of our accomplishments and progress, a tangible proof that we were accumulating a growing stack of knowledge.
Here it is:

In looking back over my logbook at the end of the traditional academic year, I realize this document reveals more about me than about any learning my children may have picked up along the way.
I am really extremely conflicted about how I see my role as a homeschooling parent. I am in awe of the mothers who can say with conviction: "It is not my job to make choices for my child. It is my job to present the options, but the choice is up to them." To those of you who have read some other entries on this blog, this may seem somewhat disingenuous of me. After all, I have written a condemnation of worksheets, a stern critique of punishments and consequences, and a heartfelt plea for letting our children follow their dreams. I've managed to convince you, didn't I?
Well, let me fill you in on a little secret, shall I? There is a fierce tug-of-war going on between my private logbook and my public blog.
But first, another tug-of-war is taking place within the pages of the logbook. Every few pages, the logbook presents evidence of my intense efforts toward controlling the learning process: lesson plans, lists of questions to explore, painstaking notes, in my own hand, on the process and outcome of experiments and activities.
Between my notes there are numerous clues that my children's learning is taking place on a bit of a tangent.
Math worksheets morph into karate master comic strips:

Book reports rely rather more heavily on illustration than on the written word:

Worksheets are abandoned in favor of projects created from scratch:

Pencil studies proliferate when a small guidebook is accidentally discovered:

As I flip through the entries in the logbook, I am struck by the interest my kids show in the visual and tactile arts, and anything that involves hands-on exploration and participation. Looking back at the year, I realize that our greatest successes were not the mastery of fractions, or adding multi-digit numbers, or composing a paragraph. The biggest successes were those things we did that did not involve a plan or an agenda, that grew out of a genuine curiosity, and maintained momentum from our own internal drive. Things like Peter's stop-motion films, Nadia's novels and learning how to read, playing survival of the fittest with legos, looking for and dissecting owl pellets, making recycled paper, making a vacation travelogue, creating a Tree of Life book and other nature books, building a clay undersea coral reef, filling a mailbox with popcorn, and, of course, going back 4,600 million years to understand the history of  our planet.

And this brings me, in a circuitous sort of way, back to the original tension I noted between the secrets of the logbook, and ideas voiced in the blog you are now reading.
The blog expresses my more rational ideas, considered and formulated at relative leisure, after I've had a chance to reflect on all the facets of a particular challenging event. At that leisure, and in a clear frame of mind, there seems little doubt to me, that we all -- children and adults -- learn and do our best, and become better, when we are free to follow our own choices and make our own decisions.
On the other hand, the logbook contains the tangle of mixed emotions, indecisions, questions and self-doubt, with which I react, as I try to balance the interests of my children and family against the demands and pressures of our society.
Maybe one day I will stand unequivocally with the moms I quoted earlier. But not yet. Not quite yet.

Comments

[kim]

Oh, I love the logbook. And for the record, I love your freewheeling posts here too. All of it makes me breath deeply. I think just like you on this matter and spent years feeling conflicted about the control/documentation thing. But I have come to peace with the issue based on acknowledging that I am a big geek who needs to document everything for my own pleasure and edification. Nowadays, I don't see any conflict between unschooling and what we are doing and it is because I allowed myself to define what unschooling is to us. It is an idea or a guideline for how to live, otherwise it ends up becoming a dogma. I've met people who are fierce about just what unschooling means and just who is violating the principles of it and I think that kind of thinking is abstract and damaging to people rather than liberating. You are doing it your way Justyna, the way that works to keep you and the kids motivated and happy and having maximum freedom and I think it is wonderful.

[Kristen]

The uncertainty that I feel is not with how we fit into the definition of unschooling so much as my kids getting older and what I feel is the need to "buckle down" a bit and maybe do some of the stuff we have all avoided just because it's more difficult for them. Just because you don't like to write doesn't mean you should never write anything-not even a list!! We attended an unschoolers conference in January and it really helped me realize how I need to do what is right for my family-whatever it is called. But as my kids get older it's hard to get them to do anything that isn't on their agenda at this point in the game.When kids are young it is great when you suggest things and they re on board-but not so easy when they get older!!

[justyna]

I guess I'm also less conflicted about the definition of unschooling, than the pressure to make sure my kids learn what they "should" know. This pressure is both external, and internal, coming from me.
In my more enlightened moments, I believe that getting them to do things just because I think they should is completely counterproductive anyway, and won't lead them to the love of whatever that thing is (math, writing, touch-typing, etc.)
But I'm not always feeling enlightened, and there is a part of me that wonders if they will ever be able to function as adults unless they master those skills.
I guess what helps me with that dilemma, is that I am fully convinced that we never stop learning. After all, I didn't learn to type or drive until I was in my twenties. Although I excelled at math throughout my school career, I use or remember little of it today. At the same time, I picked up many new skills along the way that I do rely on in my daily life.
Whether we like it or not, to some extent we must struggle with the idea of giving our children the skills that will help them conform to what society expects, in the event they find themselves in a situation that requires conformity. Because as unschoolers, we tend to disdain conformity (at least to an extent), preparing our children for the life of conformity is problematic.