I just want him to stay with me until I can be sure he won’t turn into Norman Nothing.

I want to be sure he’ll know when he’s chickening out on himself. I want him to get to know exactly the special thing he is or else he won’t notice it when it starts to go.

I want him to stay awake and know who the phonies are, I want him to know how to holler and put up an argument, I want a little guts to show before I can let him go.

I want to be sure he sees all the wild possibilities. I want him to know it’s worth all the trouble just to give the world a little goosing when you get the chance.

And I want him to know the subtle, sneaky, important reason why he was born a human being and not a chair.

- A Thousand Clowns, Murray trying to explain why he hasn’t put his nephew in school yet

As Justin and I would walk the dog we would marvel at the noise and excitement where complete stillness had been. There were outdoor TVs for football games, four-wheeling through “our” blackberry trails and oh, the drunken karaoke. Nothing says “Sweet dreams and goodnight” like hearing the last chorus of Daydream Believer sung 17 times in a row.

What surprised us the most was how much work their vacation looked to be. More setup and teardown than we allow ourselves for an entire week at one spot! LOL

Zeb has had a blast this weekend too. He made two great friends here, one a little older and one a little younger and for three straight days they ran around together, playing Nerf wars and games, then for three straight nights they had a sleepover. Laugh-snorts, video game playing, and total tween boy energy.

Scouting a sinkhole for fossils

Both his new friends head off to start school tomorrow, a culture Zeb no longer understands, as he tried to explain to him our culture of learning what interests us, doing what we love, exploring the world and not “having to” follow a rhythm other than our own.

There were some not-so-funny moments this weekend too: We were a little taken aback by the grandpa who threw his granddaughter’s bike out of frustration or the parent’s who left Zeb hanging as a punishment to their son.

This morning before we were even fully out of bed the jammed-packed park was nearly empty, as everyone was packed and heading home.

Full RV park + RV full of boys = Non-stop movement for 3 straight days, followed by complete stillness.

Kinda eerie.

Facebook has a new feature where it notifies you of last year’s status. This was my reminder a few days ago:

Sometimes I forget just how different our lives are from others. We eat when we’re hungry, never raise our hands to get permission to pee, & we don’t have to work when someone else tells us to. We get to love what we do all the time, instead of just holidays & weekends & if we’re tired by the end of the day it’s a fulfilled tired, not an exhausted-depressed tired.

Together at the lake

I could’ve written that today.

We’re no longer accustomed to the Work Hard/Play Hard mentality, the school shots and shopping, or the energy that comes from parents and grandparents yelling at their little ones while they busy themselves with other things.

Now we’re used to going with the flow, talking together when challenges arise, and creating situations that make us all feel good.

This wasn’t always our life, and I’m grateful for the reminder of that.

Because it’s a charmed life we’ve chosen.

Ah, perfect. That word is a hot one. Especially for us women.

Most of us strive so hard to be perfect: the perfect mother, perfect partner, the perfect person with a perfect purpose. We try to create the perfect home and the perfect world with perfect hair and perfect kids.

And then we hear the messages that perfection is a myth, that it can’t be obtained and that striving for it is a maddening and pointless attempt to be something we’ll never be.

After all no one is perfect, right?

This is where I get all Big and Philosophical on you…

Both are wrong.

Zoom out with me – way out – and take in the Big Picture of your life, your journey of self-discovery and growth, your contribution to and purpose in the world.

The entire purpose of your life is to learn, to grow, to experience this human experience and make sense of it the best way you can.

You don’t need to strive for perfection and you don’t need to give up the idea of perfection…Because you are already perfect.

Where you are is already perfect. What you are experiencing, doing and thus learning is absolutely perfect.

You are the perfect mother for your children. You are the perfect person for your purpose. Everything you’re doing and experiencing is perfect.

Stay with me here.

It’s perfect that you make mistakes. It’s perfect that you beat yourself up for them. It’s perfect when you don’t do either.

It’s absolutely perfect when you wake up one day to realize something totally new and life-changing and it’s perfect when nothing ever seems to change.

It’s all perfect because it’s all purposeful, because when we zoom way out the little details that we stress over and complain about and push against blur together, and we see the process, the journey, the contrast that teaches us, the resistance that strengthens us, the meaning at the end of the story, the light at the end of the tunnel and the Magic that brought it all together, that connected the cosmic dots and created something amazing.

If our purpose in life is to learn, and if we learn best through our experiences, then yes, it’s all actually perfect.

And only by acknowledging that it’s perfect can we embrace it, learn from it and expand because of it.

Your mistakes have value. Your journey is oh-so-valuable.

But you won’t get that, you won’t experience that value, until you accept it as perfect, as exactly as it gets to be.

Yes, this applies to everyone – you and your kids, your partner and THAT one frustrating person you would rather not talk about. No matter what you all are doing or experiencing in your lives, you are all in the same perfect place.

Acknowledging that you are exactly where you need to be, and that everything you are experiencing or doing is perfect is not license to be an asshole, hit your children or just quit trying, anymore than the lack of a posted warning is license to shoplift.

On the contrary, and perhaps paradoxically, embracing the seemingly imperfect as perfect will take off that heavy weight of Not-Good-Enough, Less-Than, Doomed-To-Mess-Up, and leave you only with desire to move forward into seeking more….more Love, more connection, more experiences, more compassion, more beauty, more peace, more learning.

You cannot create your Life from a place of imperfection, unworthiness, brokenness, less-than. You can’t. Whatever you see this moment as being, you will notice and create more of the same.

But when you can connect to the fact that this moment is perfect – that it is here for you to experience and learn from, that’s it’s all opportunity, all of value – you can connect to the fact that you can create something more, better, and beautiful from it.

Only by stopping the fight against what is can we give ourselves the clarity and power to create what can be.

Look for it: What about that one frustrating thing is actually perfect?

“There is only one world, the world pressing against you at this minute. There is only one minute in which you are alive, this minute here and now. The only way to live is by accepting each minute as an unrepeatable miracle.” – Storm Jameson

I love unschooling. I know that probably goes without saying, but it’s good for me to be reminded sometimes.

Yesterday was our fourth unschooling anniversary. Four years ago we made one choice that changed our world. And today I’m reminded just how phenomenal and empowering a choice it was. See, I don’t love unschooling because of its “results.”

I love unschooling because of what it gives us: freedom, space to heal and the courage to live passionately.

Four years ago, I stood before a child that was angry and sad. I stood before him with questions about how to help him and how to ignite the interests he once had. I was worried that he no longer loved to read or wanted to play with numbers or patterns.

Our life was anxious and nervous and uncertain.

In school he felt a lot of pressure to perform, took to heart anything that sounded like criticism, and became paralyzed by fear of failure. Even things he enjoyed and excelled in were avoided.

Reading was one of those things.

Although we had been reading since he was an infant, although he was excited to learn to do it on his own, and although he picked up on it quickly and easily, he was before me declaring his hatred for books. With pressure, judgment and limitations placed on him his loved for books suffered.

But unschooling changes those things.

Living outside school gave us the freedom to be ourselves, the space to heal our wounds and the courage to live passionately.

As I type this today, four years later, I’m sitting beside my 11 year old as he writes his first novel. And it’s not just any novel; he’s writing an epic fantasy novel.

My heart is so big and happy right now. I wish there was a smiley with it’s eyes closed and it’s face basking in the sun. Because that’s how I feel, as though I’m basking in the glow of a beautiful life.

My son is writing a novel. And I’m not concerned with any of the details, the grammar or spelling or “doing it right”. I’m not even concerned if he doesn’t make it past the second chapter (because he’s already finished the first…and it was Oh.So.Good).

I’m concerned with feeding his passion and his desire to want to do something So Big, so outside his usual comfort zone.

I’m concerned with supporting his sense of empowerment, as he chooses to do something that conventional wisdom wouldn’t expect from him.

I’m concerned with helping him feel the potential within him, to know he CAN, even if he chooses not to.

I’m concerned with his sense of freedom, giving him the space to grow and feeding his courage to live passionately.

Because those are the things that nurture a personal definition of success.

Those are the things that change things.

Zeb took a serious interest in the Jr Ranger Program offered through our National Parks while we were in Indiana. Our first park and his first badge has come from Lincoln National Park in Southern Indiana. According to his age, he was required to finish five pages of the program and a list of tasks that included hikes, visiting the living memorials of Lincoln’s Boy Hood Memorial and watching a short film.

We were excited to see him so eagerly embrace and accomplish something that not long ago would have caused him to panic, bringing up negative memories of school papers and the pressure to perform. He was gung-ho passionate and an unstoppable answer-figuring machine.

That’s likely why I was taken aback when the ranger called him an “overachiever” because of his finishing more pages than necessary for his age group.

The term “overachiever” has such a negative connotation to it. Despite knowing it was only a playful conversation on the ranger’s part and in no means meant offensively, it set my thoughts swirling anyway. Because let’s face it, overachiever is not much of a compliment. And here was my son, excitedly devouring something of interest to him and being labeled for it.

The True Definition of an Overachiever

According to Dictionary.com, the definition of “overachiever” is a simple one: to perform better than expected.

At first glance it doesn’t seem negative (I won’t even broach my feelings on the word “perform”). But its implications and the manner in which is it generally used certainly does:

• First, the definition itself implies someone didn’t really expect much from you. This likely means they don’t see you possessing any number of positive qualities: intelligence, motivation, or persistence to see something through, to name a few. This is sometimes a general statement (i.e. many adults don’t really expect much of teens) or it could be related to subject matter (perhaps the material seemed above your capability level). Either way it doesn’t say much for you, if you are the person in question.
• It can imply the subject matter may not have been interesting in the first place. We simply don’t expect much from a person who is doing something we ourselves think is boring or pointless. And when they do, we’re not going to believe it had to do with passion; we’re going to blame it on pretention. Which leads me to my next point….
• It smacks of a personal attack. Let’s get real: When the term “overachiever” is used, it’s commonly a way to call a person a brownnoser, a kiss-up, a teacher’s pet or say they are a pretentious show-off or a know-it-all. We tend to put these types of people in the same category as tattle-tales, whiners or liars. Why? Because a passionate pursuit of anything feels really alarming, even threatening, especially when we lack our own passionate pursuit. Which is why….
• It’s too easily used to vilify a person or their passions. Every person I’ve heard called an overachiever was simply a truly interested person. They loved the information they were acquiring and they ate up anything they could find on the matter. They went above and beyond what they were required to do because unlike others, they actually loved what they were doing. This is why overachievers are seen as threatening. Passion sets a pretty high bar and for someone uninterested, who the hell wants to rise to a challenge they dislike? Who wants to do more of something that bores them, or that they downright hate? And who wants to be reminded of the fact they are doing it in the first place?

Vilifying Interests

We, as a culture, tend to vilify interests. We tell bookworms to get their nose out of a book and jocks to pick one up. We tell nerds to get off the computer and dinosaurs to get with the times.

We label energetic kids as ADD but don’t allow them to focus on the video game that is holding their attention. We call interested kids overachievers then get upset when they aren’t achieving the goals we set for them.

We pull them away from their games, their friends, their activities, and their interests because we feel they’ve had enough, done too much or need to do something else.

We don’t allow them to specialize; we only allow for superficial dabbling. Not too much of anything, just a little bit of everything. A sampling, a smattering, but let’s not get greedy over any one thing.

The honest truth: We don’t like passion. It scares us. Plain and simple.

Passion is a threat to our carefully contrived societies that rely on the mindless droning on of things we loathe. We insist on insisting that life is meant to be hard. That we were meant to work, not play; dread, not enjoy.

And as adults we keep ourselves stuck there, feeling guilty when we have wild, hilarious fun doing what we love.

It’s a Suffer vs Laughter mentality and it’s a lie.

We know a passionate person will continue to seek passion. But we’ve been told passion leads to self-absorption, laziness, pride, selfishness, and that doing what you love means neglecting all else. And things like that lead to murder, rape, theft…a complete breakdown of our social fabric.

Do you get it? We’re told to disregard our passions, even dislike life, for the betterment of society.

We’re told to be miserable so that we can all be happy.

But passions don’t break us down; they fill us up. They fill us with joy and when our hearts are full our cup overflows with generosity.

We simply cannot give what we do not have. Without a true passion of our own, we can’t support the passion (or heartache) of others. We can’t give freely of ourselves when we have nothing worth giving. We can’t convince the depressed there is reason to live without first seeing it ourselves.

Without a fulfilling passion, we can’t create a social fabric free from the fear of torn edges. Without the passionate pursuit of life, we simply can’t justify its purpose.

Owning the Overachiever

Oh, yes I’ve been called an overachiever. I’ve even owned a little shirt with a gold star on the front that proudly proclaimed Overachiever across my chest. And I couldn’t be more pleased that my son is seen as an overachiever as well.

Why am I so happy over what I clearly just spelled out as being not only defined as but implying a negative?

Because I propose a radical new approach to the term overachiever.

I propose we own it. Take it back. Redefine it.

Overachiever: A person who loves something more than you do.

You can’t get much more simple than that. But it also can’t be more exact. There will always be someone who loves something more than we do. And in no way, shape or form does that mean we should vilify them or their passion.

• Zeb overachieves on Jr. Ranger programs, Age of Mythology and fart noises made with his knee. He loves it more than some kids do.
• I overachieve at photography, making people cry happy tears and drawing analogies between crazy experiences. I love it more than some of you do.
• Justin overachieves at motorcycles, making things with his hands and rolling his boxers up into a thong. He loves it more than most of us do.

The world is made up of a diverse and vastly unique spectrum of people. We’re not meant to all be the same and there is room enough for us all to be different.

It’s time to embrace our pretentious, self-absorbed passions for overachieving in our own area of expertise. It’s time to one-up each other in our radical displays of showing-off.

And when we’re filled up, lit up, seeping with passion and aching from laughter, we’ll have no choice but to pour that overachieving love back into the world.

So tell me, are you an overachiever? And at what do you overachieve?

Justin: We watched him watch this giraffe for a full 20 minutes.

Me: They waited for me while I read every sign in the place.

There are so many definitions to unschooling. You can find them everywhere and they all do a perfectly fine job of explaining unschooling.

And yet, knowing full well how to define unschooling, I’m still not happy explaining it.

Why?

Because most definitions describe unschooling as a movement, a form of education or a belief on how we raise children. Our short answer usually sounds a bit like this:

Unschooling is hands-on, experience-based and interest-led learning. The world is our classroom and everything in it our curricula.

Oh, but it’s so much more than that!

That answer really only describes how our child learns. It doesn’t describe how we live, how we view the world around us, how we strive to treat others or what any of this looks like.

Unschooling As A Life Philosophy

We believe in unschooling as a whole life philosophy, not only a method of parenting or a view of the natural learning process.

It’s a method of living; how we view and approach life. We unschool ourselves, our relationships, our jobs…recently I’ve even begun unschooling my body. And it’s radically changed (and still changing) our lives.

To us unschooling is not only about our children, it’s about all of us. It’s about our life.

Unschooling your whole life means…

• Seeing no division between child and adult, regardless of ability or experience. All should be treated with the same equal respect and consideration.
• Trusting all people of all ages are natural learners, born with an innate curiosity and an earnest desire to learn, even if it requires a bit of excavating for some of us to rediscover.
• Knowing that all people are inherently good. A learning curve on societal rules or boundaries, or a personal struggle due to past history does not make them “bad”. We all do the best we can with the tools we have.
• Thinking all people, regardless of age, have a purpose and that that purpose may seldom, or often, or never, change. And the best determiner of that purpose is the person in question.
• Believing in the wildly passionate pursuit of interests, supporting those interests wholeheartedly, and trusting when an interest fades.
• Disbelieving that interests are only valid if they come with monetary or status gain. We do things for the love of what we do and trust how our needs are always met.
• Not condoning the subjugation, squashing or criticism of individuality or diversity. We allow for difference of opinion, we see the underlying needs of others and we validate their particular experience.
• Not creating division between various subjects or activities. All of life flows in and out of all of life. The subject of “math” doesn’t exist but we find numbers and patterns in everything.
• Adamantly disagreeing that life should consist of unenjoyable work, that we should always follow all the rules or do things the same way everyone else does them. Feverishly questioning anything that tells us otherwise.
• Trusting in ourselves first, each other next and all others last.
• Respecting the boundaries of others and ourselves.
• Taking responsibility for our choices and our life. It’s all about empowerment.
• Seeking our own life and not settling for someone else’s. Supporting others who do the same.
• Building off our individual interests, creating a rich, diverse and engaging environment in which we can all thrive equally.
• Respecting one another’s personal Truths or choices. But drawing definitive lines where the boundaries of another are being crossed.
• Standing up for the little guy, especially the one without their own voice.
• Knowing that life is good. Messy. Imperfect. Wonderful. Sometimes heart-wrenching. And loving it anyway.

How can you possibly explain all that in one short answer? It’s impossible to describe what this looks like when someone asks. Because unschooling is just life and although you can define life and you can explain it, it’s still something that must be seen and experienced to fully understand.

Are you a whole life, whole person unschooler?
What would you add to this list? Or do you have a short answer??

One of the key efforts of an unschooling parent is something usually referred to as “strewing”: keeping interesting things “strewn” throughout your home that may be of interest to your child. It’s one of the ways often described to create a rich environment and it’s one of the habits I thought we might miss on the road.

Strewing generally leads to lots of cool stuff rotating around the house…cool stuff we have neither the storage to carry, nor the actual counter/table/floor space to place. “Stuff” simply has no spot to occupy in a 22 foot RV. So strewing has taken on a different look for us now. Instead of things, we strew opportunities: people, places and experiences. The world is truly our classroom…or at least the contingent 48.

Zeb has had a serious interest in mythology ever since being introduced to a video game just a few months ago by some new friends we made on the road. Through means I simply don’t know he can now recite both major and minor gods, what they rule, who they married and their children, as well as many of their stories.

When the Percy Jackson movie came out I knew we had to get it for him. (We keep all our DVD’s in a large CD folder and throw away the cases; we love movies and this ensures we always have space for our regular movie nights.) If you’ve seen it you know that one scene is portrayed right here in Nashville: the Nashville Parthenon! Duh! Of course we had to go!

Zeb really loved it, although he was disappointed there wasn’t more there. Not much of what we saw was new to him, but it was fun anyway. And he hasn’t stopped talking mythology all day.

Some cool information Zeb wants to share (and me, too!) with his fellow mythology lovers:

• Nashville built the Parthenon as part of their Centennial celebration to highlight their being referred to as The Athens of the South, due to their high number of universities.
• It was originally built from plaster in 1897 and meant to be a temporary structure. Other monuments were also built and later deconstructed but the Parthenon was left. When the plaster began to deteriorate the decision was made to reconstruct it out of cement, a 10 year project that began in 1921.
• As soon as we finish the Harry Potter series, we’ll be starting the Percy Jackson books*!
• The Lightning Thief* was not actually filmed on location, nor was the Athena in the movie anything like the Athena in Nashville. And the lady at the front desk was obviously pretty miffed about this.
• Zeb *loves* the computer game Age of Mythology*. It’s fun, captivating and full of cool information.
• Youtube has some cool videos for you visual learners who want to know more.
• Despite lots of Greek Mythology love, his favorite god is Thor, the Norse God of Thunder.
• And right now we’re getting ready to read the stories in this kid’s book* my aunt loaned us!

What are your kids loving right now? Any other mythology lovers out there?

*Disclosure

In fact, until last week, there were three truths he held firm to:

1. That only women made good artists
2. That he was not artistic, nor interested in anything art related
3. That at some point in the next few years he would have to outgrow his beloved LEGO collection

He no longer believes any of that.

In fact, several nights ago he declared that he is going to be a sculptor, and that he wanted to go to bed early so he could get started on a new project the next day. The last words he spoke before falling to sleep that night were, “Tomorrow begins my sculpting career.”

Why the change? Zeb met one person who inspired him to view things differently.

His name is Chris. He’s a sculptor and he, his painter wife and their 4 year old daughter are currently living next to us in their RV.

They’ve had fun building light sabers out of PVC and duct tape, and the kids all love the dragons he made out of melted plastic trash.

But I think what first intrigued Zeb was that Chris loves LEGO so much he travels with his collection! For awhile now Zeb had assumed that growing older meant giving up the fun of childhood; Chris and his creative nature prove you can be a fun-loving kid at any age.

Over the weekend, Chris held a “funshop” for the kids, showing them how to make their own dragons from wire and modeling clay. Zeb, the once self-critical perfectionist, is IN LOVE with his creations. He excitedly points out how he executed his ideas, what didn’t work and what he wants to try next time. My heart swells just thinking about it all.

This is what I was hoping to find on the road: awesome people who help us open up and expose more of the world and all its options to our son. Two months into this trip and we’re already hearing things from him we no longer thought we would hear, we’re seeing him do things passionately he once swore he couldn’t do and we’re watching him take pride in his work.

A big, huge thank you to Chris and Becky for your inspiration, patience and kindness.

Between his new-found passion for sculpting, the dozen unschooling kids he’s spent every day with, the endless games they play and the beautiful surroundings, he’s already dreading our upcoming departure date. And with all the fun we’ve had with the NuRVers this past week, so are we.

To see more of what we’ve been up to, check out the Happy Janssen’s daily blog posts.

Just days after he insists he doesn’t like trying new things, days after I’m worrying over my baby boy, he surprised me. (And likely himself.)

Today was irrigating day at Ironwood Farm. The farm shares surface water rights with several other neighboring farms, all of whom take turns irrigating their fields and gardens. It was a lot of tiring work cleaning the canals of debris. But once it was clear the water flowed through the channels and made for very happy geese, ducks…and of course, kids.

E and S, the two unschooling kids on the farm, had a ready-made boat (a water tub borrowed from the cows) and swore to Zeb it was the only way to do it. But Zeb insisted on making his own boat, and with plenty of scrap material on the farm, he managed to paint it and even add a flag! With a push off and a little help from dad, he made it about 20 feet downstream before what he called “an epic fail”.

He was pretty upset, and ran off to be alone for a moment. When I went to speak to him, he was devastated. He felt everything he did “never worked” and went on beating himself up for a bit. But just coming down from all your awesome comments and I finally felt reassured as to my part in his experience.

I validated him and listened. And when he was ready I commended him on trying something no one else had yet to try. I told him how much guts it takes to venture out on a limb, inventing something new and not taking the easy, assured route to success. (I likened it to the Wright Brothers who’s dedicated experimental work he has admired in the past.) And even when it fails our expectations, the experience still makes for an awesome time.

We stood up to walk back to the channel and I asked if he wanted one of the other “boats” to continue playing. Nope. He wanted to try his again.

A good, good day.

I have no idea how to start this post, other than to say it’s all catching up to me. I’ve been tired and sluggish since we arrived and am so thankful we’re staying with friends while we all acclimate. No plans, no sightseeing; just hanging out. It’s a nice way to ease ourselves into things. (We’ve all been catching up on sleep and making our way back to eating Real Food; we’ve been eating lots of bad fats and not enough good fats and fresh veggies lately. I think Justin and I will be restarting our cleanse soon and I’m going to assist the process with a green smoothie fast.)

Friday morning Zeb fell asleep before we left, so we moved him to the RV and let him continue sleeping. He woke up around Kingman, immediately went to the map and found our location, as well as our destination and figured out our estimated arrival time. He spent the next couple hours, sitting and watching the scenery out the window, never once feeling bored.

Of any “life learning” moments, those quiet ones feel the biggest. When a person has the time and inclination to just sit and think, amazing things emerge: thoughts and ideas, questions and most importantly, processing. I was happy to see Zeb enjoying the ride and curious what was passing through his mind.

Friday and Saturday were both beautiful and warm. We’ve spent time at the park, splashed in the residual puddles, rode bikes, ate homemade tacos, played Wii and watched the highly-debated Radical Parents on DVR. (I thought the families were great, but the “experts” could have done a bit more research before pushing the same outdated stereotypes and misinformation.)

The rain has been coming down hard since last night; so hard in fact we’ve found two leaking windows. (Ahem. For the record, I had suggested resealing the windows when we did the roof.) On top of that, our water pump stopped working.

But somewhere around the time two people are balancing on a narrow hitch in pouring down rain with a giant umbrella over their heads threatening to blow away, trying to dry a window so that they can duct tape a trash bag to it to give the silicone sealant a chance to dry underneath and they get a whiff of a black water tank that needs emptying, you realize you can do nothing but laugh at yourself. Ah, the joys of vintage wheels.

Thank goodness for neighbors in need of a massage for the exact price of the pump and friends willing to give us a ride to the nearest RV store.

I’m beginning to think I could make some extra money by taking bets on what Benny will do (or not do) next.

We were planning to head out tomorrow, passing through the Petrified Forest and ending up in Albuquerque the day after, but with the rain and snow, we’ll be playing it all by ear.