Trust and
Being Human
Heather Newman
Maine Unschooling Mini Conference
2015
I am
a human being and as such I am prone to error. As it happens, my husband is
also human with the same propensity for making mistakes. And together we’ve
made a few doozies.
We
were not always an unschooling family.
David
and I started off as very traditional parents not questioning much about the
well-worn path we were expected to walk. Much like the Malvina Reynolds song
Little Boxes “And the people in the houses all went to University, where they
were put into boxes and all turned out the same.” We trusted what the vast
majority was doing as correct instead of trusting ourselves because this path
did not always feel right or good, but the why of that feeling eluded our
understanding. We questioned a little
bit because when it came time for our oldest to attend kindergarten we sent him
to a private school convinced he would be bored in the local public school
where we lived at the time. (He ended up bored in that expensive private
institution anyway. So much for that plan.) And when Ben asked why he couldn’t
just do school at home with me, I had two younger sons with developmental and
medical challenges. I did not trust myself to be capable enough to “do a good
job” and, sadly, I did not trust in my son who was speaking his truth.
I
have since apologized for this. Ben told me that our
mistakes are a part of his journey to who he is and since he is happy we should
not wish that away from him. It is his life and his story to own, not ours and
he is right. Who am I to regret a part of what makes him uniquely him. We learned
from our mistakes to create a better life. . “I did then what I knew how to do.
Now that I know better, I do better” Maya Angelou.
A
woman on an unschooling group once stated that unschoolers shouldn’t share
their mistakes because it only encourages people learning about it to excuse
their own poor decisions. I disagree. Human beings are not inspired to do
better by stories of perfection, in fact the opposite tends to happen when we
are given an unattainable image to live up to. We are inspired to do better by
stories about human fallibility and the vision and ability to move beyond
it. We learn from these stories to
create our own tools to succeed.
So,
halfway through second grade Ben was miserable, the teachers wanted to drug him
because he was acting out (from the mind numbing boredom) and we brought him
home with his younger brothers leaving preschool to join him a year later. We
began with a curriculum and school at home situation. What did not work in the
big brick building did not work at home (surprise, surprise!) and we turned to
unschooling as a way to repair our relationships with our boys and bring joy
back into our family and learning environment. Our journey to trusting
ourselves and our children has been a work in progress spanning the past
decade.
And
I want to say here that the word work does not indicate a burdensome,
undesirable activity. Just as the industry of our hobbies and interests is
undertaken with a light heart, our work towards being better humans can also be
something that brings us joy and satifaction.
This
journey included my husband and I trusting each other as we began exploring
unschooling. It required a deeper level of trust and communication than what we
needed for the typical parenting and schooling path. I came to unschooling
first and because I was the one passionate about this new topic, I learned more
about it at a faster rate than David did. I was also the one home all day every
day witnessing the small changes in the house. It was longer before he could see
and feel the shift to a better life, to accept it as the right thing for his
children. I needed to trust in his path to understanding, even when I was
frustrated and wanted him to just get it already! He needed to trust that I was
not running our family off of a cliff into chaos and dysfunction. It was not easy, but with time, patience, and
lots of newly developed communication skills we made it.
The
thing is, human beings are born wired for trust, and through that trust:
connection, and engagement. Within one hour after birth, an infant will draw
back their head to look at the person gazing at them. One of their first acts
in their new world is to seek human connection. We need trust to build
communities and families. We need it to survive. Stephen Covey (educator,
author, and businessman) wrote: “Trust is the glue of life. It’s the most
essential ingredient in effective communication. It is the foundational
principle that holds all relationships.”
Our
society does not tend to encourage or nurture this trait. Over the years trust
gets damaged in a million tiny ways. It happens when we are told to eat when we
are not hungry, sleep when we are not tired, or sit still in when we want to
run until our legs ache. We are dismissed as too sensitive, too rambunctious,
too opinionated: statements that negate who we are. Through these interactions we learn not to
listen to our inner voices and become conditioned to comply. It is hard to
question the status quo when you don’t have a solid foundation within yourself
to work from.
Where
trust is lacking, fear moves in. Fear is a fine tool for keeping us safe, one
that has served us well as developing humans learning to survive here on Earth.
However, making decisions from a place of fear results in a lack of clarity and
effectiveness. It causes us to try to control and clamp down the people around
us. Fear closes eyes and minds to opportunities. Neuroeconomist Gregory Berns
(And in case you were wondering; a neuroeconomist is someone who uses brain
scanning technology to decode the decision making systems of the mind.) He
wrote: “Fear prompts retreat. It is the antipode to progress. Just when we need
new ideas most, everyone is seized up in fear, trying to prevent losing what we
have left.”
It
is important to take a moment when those emotions and knee jerk reactions rise
up. To breath and examine the situation at hand without negativity or
unnecessary judgment. Hold on to the image of a healthy relationship with your
child and the reasons you have chosen this path above all others available to
you. Allow those positive thoughts to guide your actions. If possible, ask for
a minute or two in order to process and reset your thinking. This works well in
our home and prevents the need to backtrack or undo damage from hasty
responses. When I forget to do this (because I am tired, hungry or overwhelmed
as happens to humans), the difference is obvious. Emotions escalate and the
original request or problem ends up lost in the ensuing reactions.
This
does not mean masking a difficult situation by pretending everything is peachy,
it’s simply a method to help keep from focusing only on the fear response. Pam
Laricchia summed this up on an unschooling list several years ago: “The power
of positive thinking is not that it helps me ignore negative reality, or that I
can think good things into reality, but that I make better decisions moving
forward from a positive mindset versus one of fear. Fear induces bad decisions,
which spirals into more fear. I just have to consciously and systematically do
the work to get there.”
Trust
is one of the biggest gifts we offer our children in this existence. Trust in
who they are and how they learn. It is a solid foundation on which they can
build their life. Trust even when it’s scary because if you can move through
that uncertainty the joy of watching them shine in their interests and
themselves is immense. But we need to be able to trust ourselves in order to
fully offer it to our children.
So
how do we reclaim our inner voices and support our kids? We listen. And watch.
And read. And think. Ask questions. And listen and watch some more. And
continue to think about, question, and examine everything.
Remember
who you were as a child? What did you love, how did you view and experience the
world before someone instructed you in the “right” way to do and be. Embrace what makes you YOU. Reframe what you
were told in a favorable context. (Use
this for your children, too. When they are defined by voices either external or
internally conditioned, for example, as stubborn, bossy, or as picky eaters.
Discard those words and redefine the traits in a positive way.) I was described
as a withdrawn bookworm with a negative attitude. It was presented as an
undesirable, unfeminine (and my goodness let us be anything other than
unfeminine) way to be. I am actually a healthy skeptic who thrives on
deconstructing and examining ideas; who loves to delve deeply into stories that
light up the imagination and spark a million images and sounds. I am also an artist who needs to retreat into my mindspace to develop new creations. Sounds
much better, right? One tears down, the other builds up. It is the shift into
positive thinking and away from fear. It is moving back into trusting who we
are.
Surround
yourself with voices that support and encourage where you want to be. It can be
challenging to walk a path that diverges so sharply from the accepted norm and
the choir of people that understand that path can help bolster confidence
during shaky or questioning moments. Find your community, the one that will
help you grow and learn to become a better person and parent. There are people
out there willing to share their time and years of experience, both online and in
person. Take advantage of it! Be aware of conversations that trigger a
defensive reaction or fear as you are listening and reading. This is a
fantastic indicator of where work needs to be done.
And,
yet, because there is such a wide array of options for this lifestyle we need
to be careful of not allowing other’s journeys and stories to color how we see
our own. It a bit of a balancing act, receiving inspiration while maintaining a
clear view of our own family beauty. It is easy, and human, to look at what
someone else is doing and feel a twinge of what? Regret for what you do not
have? Envy? A lingering feeling of not doing it right? Not doing enough? (And all of those reactions
have their roots in fear.)
Illustrator
Alice Ratterree describes her learning journey as follows: “Learn from the
masters, but then respectfully ask them to leave your studio.” This statement
speaks to me, both as an artist and an unschooling parent. The collective
wisdom of my community uplifts me and encourages me to continue to grow and
expand as a human, but I am the expert on my family. I can take the tools and
ideas offered and adapt them to suit the unique gathering of people that
comprises the Newman clan. Look to other families for support, but do not let
it blind you to what is in your own home. We do not follow a prescribed,
uniform path and while the underlying principles of peaceful parenting and
unschooling remain constant, how they are used in each family is and should be
completely individual.
For
instance, I have friends who do incredible volunteer projects with their kids,
using their time and talents to tangibly make the world a better place. I love
their facebook posts about their work! I have other friends who have children
participating in open mic nights, writing stories they share online, travelling
extensively or competing in athletic tournaments. My guys aren’t interested in
those sorts of things. They love to be home working on their own projects;
playing games, following the rabbit trail of documentaries on Netflix, pulling
apart ideas to examine and discuss every nuance. While one set of activities is
more accessible to the general public’s understanding of learning and success,
both are equally valid and both exemplify the principle of supporting children
where they are. Some kids want to set the world on fire with their ideas and
projects; others find contentment in a more private life. We need to trust the
process and the person.
Trust
your children by watching and studying who they are and what they love. Let
their passions become yours. And by this I don’t necessarily mean play hours
upon hours of video games or join in a Larping group, or read genres of books
that do not interest you, (of course, if you want to explore these new things
and join them in their passions – go for it!), but you can also learn by
listening to what they have to say about these subjects. See how their eyes
light up and their voices ring with joy as they describe a bug they found, a
favorite new book, a discovered YouTube series or the level recently beaten on
a new game. Sit nearby while they explore and observe how they interact with
their world. Let that energy feed your trust in the process.
Because
learning is not linear or regimented. It’s wild and organic. It can be loud and
emotionally charged. Skills may be acquired in massive leaps of development, or
new abilities may develop slowly noticed only when looking back over several
months.
There
will be phases when it seems like there will never be enough hours in the day
to contain all of the things your kids need and want to explore. And there will
be slow times; when to unobservant eyes it looks like nothing is getting done.
It is in these times that trust may falter and fear creeps in on stealthy feet
whispering in you’re ear “You’re not doing enough!” But the quiet spaces are where new
information is assimilated into the existing framework of knowledge and
experience. This is the time when connections are made between apparently
disparate topics. Profound, deep
learning happens in those moments, hours, and days.
Once
David and I began to question what we had been taught and to start letting go
of our fear, we could start making the changes that would ultimately lead us to
where we are now. It began slowly. Baby steps.
When
teachers told us our son needed to be medicated in order to learn, we had
learned enough (and had had our faith in the system damaged enough) to trust
what we knew of Ben and see the untruth for what it was. He did not need to be
medicated in order to learn, he did just fine pursuing his interests at home.
They wanted him medicated so he would sit still and be quiet for 8 hours a day.
When occupational, physical, and speech therapists told us Arthur (our 14 year
old son) would never dress himself, feed himself, or communicate without hours
of daily therapy, we looked at how unhappy he was in that therapy and trusted
that as a thinking, curious human being he would learn those things by simply
living life. And he has.
Those
same therapists told us that our youngest son, Ethan, would not learn to
respect other people’s boundaries or bodies unless he was forbidden from
touching anyone. We looked and saw a child full of love and joy who would be
crushed by such “behavior modification”. We’re still working on that one with
Ethan, but it’s one of those instances where progress is measured over months
(maybe years), not minutes.
None
of the people making these recommendations were cruel, nor were they stupid.
They simply believed in the system and in the one path the majority followed. A
system that views children as unformed, something to be molded and shaped like
clay or filled as a vessel would be. By tapping into a community of people who
were living and talking about where we wanted to be, a community that
encouraged looking at learning and children in an entirely different way, as
complete human beings deserving of respect, we were able to build our trust
muscles to the point where our vision of our kids is so solid, clear, and true
that there is no more room for the naysayers.
And
there are always naysayers, well intentioned or otherwise. It comes from
family, friends, even strangers. They will ask about socialization and college,
math and reading. They will accuse you of not living in the real world and
existing in a utopia that is not sustainable outside of your home. We know the
truth, though, don’t we? This is the real world, as real as it gets. In an
email exchange with a friend last winter I wrote: “They tell me that what
I have to say, what I think is not valid because I "don't live in the real
world." It’s so dismissive. And the easy way out because it removes the
option of considering another way of living and being. The irony of that
statement is that I have never had an existence more real than the life I am
living now. It takes my breath away with the vibrancy and depth of the
emotions, realizations, and connections. The joy, sorrow, anger, laughter,
quiet moments. To See and Be Seen! And just when I think it cannot get any
richer, something will happen that brings me to my knees and new opportunities
to grow and deepen are gifted to me. Gratitude exists in abundance in this
world of mine.”
This is what trusting in myself, my husband,
and my children has offered me.
So
what does this trust look like in action? Just after I accepted Laurie’s
invitation to speak here and decided to write about trust, I had a moment with
my 12 year old. Ethan loves, LOVES fan fiction videos on YouTube. He is
passionate about stories, both listening to and creating his own. This is
actually how he spends the majority of his day, immersed in stories. If you
know anything about fan fiction, you know it can be…of questionable taste. The
video he was watching made me profoundly uncomfortable from the excessive (to
me) swearing (and I am not averse to a good bit of colorful language), the
misogyny in the storyline, and the violent anger the characters had towards one
another. I could feel my stomach knotting up and my mouth opened to say something
to him about it. Wavering trust allowing fear to sneak in!
But
I closed my mouth and backed off, staying nearby to be available if he needed
me and, honestly, to listen to what was going on in the video. After a while,
he shut off his iPad and walked over. He
said, “I’m remembering Beary (our deceased dog).” He explained to me that he
was still sad about losing Beary, but that he remembers him with his mind and
his heart. He talked about what he loved about our dog and the process of
saying goodbye and burying him. He mused about whether or not our other dog,
Daisy, remembered and missed Beary, why he still felt sad and what was
happening to Beary’s body buried under the trees. When I asked what made him
think of all of those things, he answered, “The video I just watched.”
The
video I almost asked him to turn off. Had I given in to my fears and not
trusted what I know about who Ethan is, trusted that if he was watching then
there was something he was getting out of it, we would not have had that
conversation about his thoughts and curiosity.
It
was an amazing conversation.
Another
recent example was when Ben decided to apply for a job and was granted an
interview at the somewhat local grocery store bakery. I became nervous about
the questions they might ask about his education and whether or not he would be
able to answer them in a conventional enough way for the interviewer to
understand; as Ben tends to get a bit flustered when trying to explain
unschooling to the uninitiated. It has
become so much a part of who he is and how he lives his life, it’s difficult
for him to distill it into a simple answer. (And I obviously still need to do
some work around letting go of the societal message of conformity. That
defensiveness and fear indicating what I need to examine!)
I
paused to breathe and reframe my thoughts. Instead of hitting Ben with a
barrage of instructions; I asked if he had any questions or concerns about the
interview process. I mentioned that they would probably ask about school type subjects
because of his age. He wasn’t particularly worried and we moved on to other
topics of conversation.
As
it turned out, he was asked questions about school and as soon as the
interviewer got a sense of Ben, she ditched those questions as unnecessary. And
because he is not used to test taking where you simply pick the most likely
answer in the event of not being sure, he called the manager into the office
during his online interview exam to explain that he could not answer the
particular moral question about firing an employee as it was presented because
he did not have enough information to do so. To make a judgment without full
understanding of the situation would be unfair. Finally, when he was given a
hypothetical customer dilemma, he answered by describing almost exactly a
customer service program already in place in the store. A program he had no
previous knowledge of.
He
got the job.
These
are big examples of trust at work, but there are dozens of these moments every
day. When your child wants to watch a movie or hear a book a million and fifty
two times every day for days on end and you trust that there is something there
that is feeding a need for them. When they are not interested in or ready to
read on their own and you continue to happily read out loud to them or offer
audiobooks instead of reaching for reading lessons. When you trust that what
your child has to say or show you right now is important enough to stop what
you are doing and give them your attention. When you see their interests,
whatever they may be, as valid and worthy of all of the time and attention they
wish to lavish on them.
Holding
onto trust makes the moments when your kids shine that much brighter because it
is not clouded by fear or stifled by the control that comes from fear.
The
ability to trust is a constant work in progress because we continue to develop
as human beings throughout our lives. Just when you think you’ve got it all
figured out, something will happen that shows how much farther you can travel
in your interactions with your family. Our children change and new
opportunities pop up for us to exercise our ability to trust. As we change and
learn more about ourselves situations will arise that trigger previously
hidden, unexamined fears highlighting where more growth can happen. Real relationships, meaningful and rich
relationships take time, effort and nurturing. The more you work on making
those moments of falling into trust easier, the more you strengthen those relationships.
As
writer Maria Popova stated, ”Life is a continual process of arrival into who we
are.”
We,
as parents and humans, need to Trust in that process.
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