What if Our Unschooled Kids Complain or Reject Everything We Hold Dear?

I took my blog offline to fix a few technical problems, but at the back of my mind was a question: Have I had enough of blogging? Maybe I should keep my blog hidden permanently from public view. Perhaps it’s time to become an ex-unschooling blogger.

Contemplating retirement as a blogger is nothing new. I’ve done this a few times over the past 14 years or so. But this time, something was different. Previously, I wanted to abandon my blog but not remove it from the Internet. The other day, I wondered if it was time to eliminate all evidence of our unschooling story. Wipe the Internet clean.

Sometimes, I want to be free of my blog. I don’t want anyone looking to me for help or suggestions, and I certainly don’t want to be an example for other unschooling parents. That involves a lot of responsibility. What if I don’t meet people’s expectations?

I’m good at admitting my mistakes and difficulties online. I often remind readers that I’m not a perfect mother. I even say unschooling won’t lead to perfect children. How can it? We all need a lifetime to become the people God created us to be. And maybe everyone remembers my words and doesn’t expect that unschooling will result in a fairytale life. But I’m sure everyone does have some expectations. Otherwise, why do we choose unschooling over other ways of raising and educating our kids? We’re all hoping for something, aren’t we?

Over the past week of blogging silence, when I should have been fixing my blog problems, I thought about those parental expectations. What happens if they’re not fulfilled? What if our kids have problems and make mistakes? What if they take off and disappear, leaving us behind? Will we regret unschooling? Will we say it didn’t work?

To some extent, all parents may question how effective their parenting is. We want our kids to reflect the choices we make. We want others to tell us we’re doing an excellent job. More than anything, perhaps we want our kids to appreciate our efforts and be grateful for what we give them. We want them to be proud of us and love us deeply. We’d like to hear, “You’re the best mother in the world!”, not only from our adoring, unjudgmental little kids but our adult ones as well. We want to be a close and connected part of our children’s lives forever.

A few years ago, I wrote a post reassuring parents that our unschooling kids won’t ever blame us for any difficulties they face as adults. I said this situation will never happen if we partner with our kids, letting them assume responsibility for themselves while guiding them without imposing control. But now I’m not so sure about my opinion. I think any child, unschooled or not, can ignore or perhaps not clearly see the truth and blame someone else for any problems they might face. We all do that occasionally, don’t we? It’s easier to be a victim than to acknowledge our responsibility, recognise our strengths and what we have been given, and work to solve things ourselves.

So, we have hopes and dreams for our unschooled children. But sometimes, these hopes don’t match reality. I’m not saying what we hoped for will never happen, but for now, we might live with disappointment or even heartbreak. Does that mean we failed? Has all the good we have done while unschooling been cancelled out? Perhaps all the happy childhood years are now meaningless? Or are those precious times what we should cling to in the middle of the difficulties? Do they confirm that it’s right for us to hope and trust? Do they tell us that everything will be okay?

My blog is crammed full of wonderful, happy, unschooling stories. But what if, one day, those stories come to an end offline? What if they already have? Would that invalidate everything I’ve said? Perhaps no one should read my blog stories. I could take them offline. Maybe I should remove them before anything happens or comes to light that might make readers question the whole idea of unschooling. Should I have played safe and not restored my blog today?

Or is it better to leave my stories where they are and not worry about what others might think? My blog tells a true story: my kids had a happy, unschooling childhood full of learning about the world and themselves. That’s not just my opinion. I recorded my kids’ words. Though far from perfect, I did all the loving I could to prepare them for the day when they set off into the world. But once that moment arrived, responsibility shifted. Our shared story became their story. My children decided what to write next.

There are no guarantees. We can’t safeguard our kids from future mistakes and challenges, and we can’t protect our hearts from hurt. Difficulties will arrive, not because we choose to unschool but because that’s just how life is.

So, what happens if our children decide to go their own way, which might not be our way? What if they complain or turn around and reject everything we hold dear? What if those connections we value so much start to resemble very old yellowing elastic?

We remember we gave our kids what we thought they needed when they were in our care: unconditional love, respect, and acceptance. We put them first. We listened carefully, tried to fulfil their needs, valued all the things that were important to them, encouraged their ideas, built up their confidence, and guided and helped them. We were even willing to do everything we asked of them, from chores to learning. We took delight in our children, looking at them with gratitude and awe. We shared the joy of life together. We didn’t hold back. We gave them ourselves. We did what we believed was right.

We need to keep trusting. Trust isn’t trust if it disappears when life gets tough. And we must continue to love.

Years ago, I had a bad day where everything went wrong. It certainly wasn’t a model unschooling day. Feeling discouraged, my finger reached for the ‘delete blog’ button.

“It’s all lies, Imogen,” I told my daughter. “All that stuff on my blog about how good my parenting and unschooling are going. Who would believe me if they could see us now? It’s just not true.”

And Imogen replied, “But, Mum, it is true. Your blog is the past, not today.”

Some of our kids will remain close to us forever, working through challenges and causing us little concern. But some might strike out on their own, testing our values and causing us pain. (Does personality determine which kids are more likely to want to discover life on their own?) We just don’t know what will happen in the future. That shouldn’t even be our concern. What we should be thinking about is the present, which will form the foundation for the future.

The present will also turn into the past. Will one day we say, “I loved my kids the best I could?” If we can, all will be well.

 Images

Andy and Quinn. Dogs know all about unconditional love, don’t they?