FLASHBACK FRIDAY: THE UNSCHOOLED
Chapter 7 of the “CROW” series
No kindergarten for me. Nope, I was “home-schooled” or rather, “unschooled” until I was old enough for first grade. According to Mary Griffith—author of the book, The Unschooling Handbook;
Unschooling means learning what one wants, when one wants, in the way one wants, for one’s own reasons. … choice and control reside with the learner … She may find outside help in the form of parents, mentors, books, or formal lessons, but SHE is the one making the decisions about how best to proceed. Unschooling is trusting that your children are at least as clever and capable as you are yourself.
My library was the WORLD as elucidated through a rich tapestry of intriguing images accompanied by comprehensibly educative descriptions from the pages of World Book and Child Craft encyclopedias, and that massive Masonic magnum opus that was our family Bible. My classrooms were the living rooms of the two homes that served as home. My facilitators were my parents, grandparents, and a wizened cabal of kin.
My little sister, however, graduated with honors from kindergarten. Kindergarten is an interesting concept. The word kindergarten is of German origin; it literally means, garden of children. This metaphorical transliteration of the word kindergarten conjures up a comical image in my mind. With my mind’s imaginative eye, I can picture the scene from the movie Major Payne in which, the “Major” refers to his charges as his “little patch of Brussel sprouts“, as he “waters” them with a garden hose.
In this little garden, my sister and her fellow “Brussel sprouts” were “watered” by their teachers with A, B, C’s and 1,2, 3’s. Once these little “sprouts” had grown and developed for a year, they were plucked from the garden of children, dressed in satiny white caps and gowns, and paraded—in full graduation regalia—across the Day-Care-Center’s stage; a splendid sight indeed.
Baby Brother didn’t attend kindergarten either, but he did start first-grade a year early. It had been imperative that he start a year early, for we’d become so accustomed to each other’s company, since those days of bottles and blankets, that he couldn’t bear to watch me go off to school without him. So, arrangements were made to get him into school as soon as possible. His constant cawing was driving the parental units nuts. As an old Czech proverb says, “Crows of a feather, flock together”.
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl.
(a nursery rhyme)