Photo used with permission, courtesy of North York Photography
When I first embarked on home education in the 1970s, not many parents or carers were taking this path with their children. And the ones who did were mostly mothers. It was very much frowned upon as being separate from the norm.
Likewise, in the eighties and nineties, people were largely sceptical, but increasingly more were interested. In the eighties I became a member of Education Otherwise, a registered charity which helped to support parents wishing to educate their children themselves or for those who were already doing so. Many regions had local groups so that children, and parents, could meet up, socialise and learn together.
Unfortunately, I lived in a very rural area. These groups were out of reach. But I received their magazine and newsletter which I found very helpful, as did my youngest daughter who made several pen-pals this way.
Likewise, when living in rural Scotland, a home-educated family came to visit us on route to meeting home-educating parents in different parts of the UK. They stayed for a few days and we kept in contact for many years. Education Otherwise was, and still is, a good networking resource.
What I discovered early on was that so many parents said to me that they would like to home-educate. But they didn’t feel strong enough. Many said “Are you allowed to?” I understood that they felt they didn’t have a choice. A bit like home birth, I had the same response when my children were born at home in the seventies and eighties.
In my opinion it should be a personal choice. Clearly for some it would not be a possibility – there are wages to be earned, and some may feel unequipped with the skills needed to provide the stimulus and learning materials for their children.
“What about curriculum?” some would say to me. I can only speak of my experience. I found that we needed a certain amount of structure, but this is not essential. Children learn through so many different ways if they are exposed to nature, crafts, story-telling, reading, baking, the list is endless. We were fortunate that we had nature on the doorsteps. My children liked to have a patch of garden, they helped look after our goats and hens, walk the dogs, feed the cats, learn about wild flowers, trees, the insect world… the list, again is endless.
One of my daughters had a temporary mobility-limiting problem at one time and she spent a whole summer reading, writing, learning to play the keyboard, and sitting in the sun studying hoverflies and butterflies. This led her to buy with her pocket money very advanced books on the latter; she became very knowledgeable about them. This interest greatly increased her study skills at a young age, and her love and joy in the natural world. She became a ‘biologist’ at the age of nine onwards in the world around us, writing about hoverflies, drawing them, learning about their life cycle, and liked to share her enthusiasm! Libraries were a great resource too, getting books especially for her. I had to get these books on my adult ticket as they wouldn’t loan adult natural history books to a child!
All of the different activities can lead to other skills. Baking and cooking are a lesson too, thinking about the measurements, where the food comes from, vitamins needed etc. Everything in our lives can be turned into a ‘classroom’.
When my older children went off to school, they took skills learnt at home with them, as well as compassion, understanding and a willingness to learn because they thrived on it. My youngest daughter became so obsessed with the writing of Jane Austen at one point that she enrolled in a short course on the life and works of Jane Austen through Oxford University and passed the exam at the age of fourteen. It’s a joy to watch when children are encouraged to excel and feel the excitement in what they are doing when they can pursue their own interests. Within spontaneity there comes a thirst for learning.
Anyone reading this may think that I am painting a rosy narrative. It wasn’t always easy. And, for some parents and children, home education may not work. But I felt that I had I done a pretty good job up until the age of five, so I wanted to continue and not hand over to schools that often cannot offer what individual children need, and have to concede to the governmental ideas of the day.
There is overcrowding in classrooms and governmental interference on what should and should not be taught – cutbacks on funds for the arts one minute, literature the next and so it goes on. Also, my thoughts are that there could be more beauty and grace in classrooms.
I went into a senior school recently where there was absolutely no connection to nature whatsoever; the whole building was devoid of feeling; it almost had a clinical atmosphere. I think too much attention is given to the rules and regulations of minor considerations, for instance, uniform; detention is given if a sports kit is forgotten, if the pupil has lost their pen or even if their shirt is hanging out! And yet one can see teachers who might have a shirt hanging out and they can wear colours, not live in sombre and neutral shades in their everyday dress code. I understand the need for appropriate boundaries, but also let teenagers, especially, have their say, be involved, understand why there is a certain rule.
In my experience, home-educated children are able to develop their unique selves and follow their paths, building confidence and resilience. Although, having said that, the Steiner school we used was also a wonderful alternative for some of my six children.
I’ve maybe made mistakes at times within home education but for me, and my children, it worked at the times that we brought it into our lives.
It appears that since the Covid period, many parents have opted to teach at home. School is the place to attend for some families, so nobody should be criticised for their choice. But, if appropriate, it must be a choice, if teaching is done with love and kindness.
Personally, I would like to introduce life skills to help wellbeing, for instance yoga, tai chi, organic gardening, meditation and certainly writing for wellbeing. I have experience of all these activities, which can be very therapeutic, and currently hold workshops in writing for wellbeing for adults.
I would love to take these writing workshops into schools. Some schools have small gardens, yoga classes and other beneficial activities for wellbeing, but they are the exception not the norm. These are largely for children in primary classes or a little beyond that. However, for teenagers, unless it is an after-class experience, there are very few provisions. Surely, anything that can assist stress and offer general wellbeing should be on the curriculum. It would help teachers too, especially at a time when they are understaffed and where classes are often too large.
As a country we are always hearing about the impact of life generally on the mental wellbeing of young people especially in connection with social media. Something which has come to my attention recently is the implementation of so called ‘isolation’ rooms. I am appalled. I know of a beautiful, sensitive young girl of thirteen being subjected to this. In my opinion, it is a disgusting and degrading act inflicted on someone who is simply being a teenager. These ‘rooms’ apparently are cardboard rooms built inside a classroom. The pupil has no option but to look at the four cardboard walls, no book, no writing equipment, no one to talk to, no snack for sustenance. It is enough to break the spirit of anyone and to create unpleasant childhood memories. Furthermore, adults wouldn’t stand to be insulted in this way, it would be termed abuse.
Fortunately, the mother of this child has suggested that at least the ‘rooms’ could be called a reflection room and the name has been changed in this instance. However, it cannot be denied that it is mentally destructive. Okay, if someone has done wrong maybe they need to reflect, but then why not bring in the tools to assist with this, such as introducing writing for wellbeing or similar?
I feel it is a luck-of-the-draw situation whereby some schools are more enlightened and have more funding opportunities, or perhaps wealthy donors and parental input, than others. Here I am thinking of those children who are thirteen and above who need to be in a place of respect for adults, learn understanding, beauty and grace and not be submitted to unpleasant outcomes. They are in a transitional stage, no longer a small child and certainly nowhere near adulthood. Therefore, every assistance needs to be given to achieve an education beyond academic qualities.
Recently, I endeavoured to place myself in the mindset of some teenagers to whom I have spoken or read about. I wrote a poem. Below is the result:
Being Thirteen
It can be tough being thirteen
Why doesn’t anyone listen
They think I’m being mean
When I throw down my pen
Shout I don’t want to do this
It’s not what you think Miss
Just go now, go to detention
I have no time, you show me
I don’t understand the lesson,
You could make it shine
I try to obey the structure
To be docile, sensible and keen
But please bring it alive within
I’m a teenager, I need freedom
Oh, I wish I could still hold
The warm hand of my Mum
I have to cross the bridge
Told not to sit on the ledge
Which? Of child or adult
How am I supposed to know the rules
They fill us with words, we’re not fools
We need to listen to our hearts
Learning needs to be fun
It can be tough being thirteen.