Our 4th Unschooling Anniversary (And Growth)

Getting Ready

Swing High

Flying Boy

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.

Unjobbing: What It Is and What It Isn’t

I’ve thrown the word “unjobbing” around here a few times. Like unschooling, it’s a word we use that, at first glance, does little to really describe the idea.

Just as unschooling doesn’t mean uneducated (nor is it against school or always done outside of school), unjobbing does not mean unemployed. Nor is it really against jobs or always done outside the presence of a job.

Instead, unjobbing is more about how you do what you do than what you actually do.

Unjobbing is about making a life instead of just a living.

Instead of living for work, we work to live (and to learn and grow and experience). We love what we do; it brings us fulfillment and it enables us to do some pretty wonderful things. But it’s not all we do. It’s not the only focus of our life.

Unjobbing is often used synonymously with entrepreneurship, working for oneself. But I think the greatest downfall of entrepreneurship is the insipid ideas and lessons we learned as children that still linger in our ideas around our work.

Just like deschooling, dejobbing has its place.

Unschooling and Unjobbing (Deschooling and Dejobbing)

If you look at unjobbing like we look at unschooling the definition becomes clearer. It’s obvious to see that the same paradigms linger over us long after the school years are past.

You could say that having a job (or which job you have) is a choice and school isn’t. Except that school is a choice, just one we fail to see.

And like school, we often fail to see our jobs as a choice, too.

Most working adults, just like concerned parents, don’t realize there is another choice: when you’ve been taught a lesson for 13+ years, you come to see it as the only way of doing things.

Adults are just grown kids, continuing to believe the same lessons we learned in our youth:

Obligation

A sense of obligation to people that don’t even matter to us is taught at a very young age. Extrinsic motivation and meaningless accolades (grades, rewards, punishment, guilt, praise, admonishment) feed our desire for approval and attention and our fear of ostracization. Those lessons linger long after we’re grown and we continue to feel obligated to have “a real job”, to work hard and to be grateful for it.

Hard work and gratitude aren’t necessarily a bad thing. Unless we’re doing something that is meaningless to us.

Life is not meant to be lived for others.

It’s meant to be fulfilling by our own definition. Obligation doesn’t do that. Loving what we do, knowing our reasons for it and loving those reasons does.

Competition

Likewise the environment of competition sets us up to compare ourselves to our peers. Who is “passing” or “failing”? Who has the more expensive designer shoes? Who has the hotter girlfriend? Who’s a nerd, a jock, a punk, a slut? Who has the most friends or the highest or lowest GPA?

Just putting that many similarly-aged and -interested people in one room creates an environment of judging, competing and comparing.

In order to stand out amongst the crowd you have to either do better than the others or act out against it. Both are a form of competing for attention.

That competition plays out in our adult life as we try to keep up with the Joneses’. Most of us get stuck always trying to get ahead, get a raise, get a bigger house. (The rest tend to resort to drugs or alcohol abuse, complete disregard for others or a total withdrawal from society.)

We compare and base our value off our neighbor’s value – or what we perceive it to be.

Sadly, while we compare what another family may have we rarely compare what they don’t have. We may see the bigger house and nicer car, but we rarely take into account the extra work, the disconnection, the dissatisfaction.

So as we run to keep up we find ourselves overworked, disconnected and dissatisfied and can’t understand why.

Worthiness

Perhaps the biggest elephant in the room, our sense of worthiness is so strongly tied to our salary it’s a wonder Big Pharma hasn’t created a disorder for it and patented a drug already.

Our sense of self-worth strongly relates to the words used to describe us (or other children around us).

A lack of compassion or attention, an unfulfilled need for validation, even things like “good boy” or “bad boy,” “that’s not nice of you”  or “she should be ashamed of herself” and so on, all plant seeds in our young minds that germinates into self-doubt and fear.

Only if a Superior deems our actions as okay are we to be considered worthy.

And thus we become performers, doing something that doesn’t resonate with us, all for the external validation we crave.

And it’s not just those that have a job that are affected. In fact I’d bet just as many entrepreneurs suffer from these hurtful lessons than anyone else.

Unjobbing vs Entrepreneuring

I’ve been an entrepreneur since I was 19 years old. For seven years I owned my own mobile massage therapy company, contracting upwards of 20 or more massage therapists, yoga instructors, estheticians and nail techs for bodywork and treatments in homes, hotels and at conventions. I made good money, enjoyed what I did and had big goals for the future.

And I was miserable – we were all miserable.

It took several years to realize that no amount of money, power or job satisfaction alone can fulfill me. I worked for myself, but that didn’t keep me from being overworked, disconnected and dissatisfied.

Many entrepreneurs mistakenly think the key to happiness is the freedom to work for oneself.

But no amount of independence can make you free when your mind is still shackled to the same ideas passed around Corporate America or Corporate Education.

And that’s what happens to a lot of entrepreneurs: we’re driven by the same sense of obligation, the same competitiveness and sometimes a whole lot more of need to prove ourselves. We carry forward those same lessons of our youth, except now funneling it into making a lot of money.

Don’t get me wrong – making good money is not a bad thing.

But I’ve met too many entrepreneurs (*raising my hand*) who become consumed with their businesses and forget why they work for themselves to begin with.

Will The Real Unjobbing Please Stand Up?

Which leads me to unjobbing, what it is and what it isn’t:

Unjobbing is not about loving your work, although that should probably be a piece of the puzzle.

Unjobbing is not about working for yourself, although most unjobbers do.

I’d argue that unjobbing isn’t even about making a life instead of a living, although it’s certainly an important part.

Unjobbing is about changing the way we think of and view our world.

Unjobbing is about letting go of the obligation, losing the competitive drive and determining our own self-worth.

It about questioning what we take for granted, finding truth among the bullshit and deciding for ourselves what has value in our lives.

It’s about deschooling our adult minds and living outside the status quo, giving ourselves the same freedom we give our unschooling children.

It’s not job satisfaction, it’s life satisfaction.

It’s purpose and passion and following our interests.

Our work either becomes our soulful purpose and contribution to the world, something we feel passionately about and something we feel drawn to do.

Or our work is something that provides what we need to do the thing(s) we feel is our soulful purpose and contribution to the world, enabling us to continue something we feel passionately about or drawn to do.

Either way it’s not a “job”. It should never be something we loathe or put up with for a paycheck. It’s one aspect – perhaps the biggest or the smallest – of one entire life.

Our Unjobbing Journey

Even though I’ve worked for myself for the past decade, I still had a lot of dejobbing to do. Most of it was done around the time that we took Zeb out of school and I began unschooling my life right along side him.

I reevaluated my business and quickly found the meaning and the meaninglessness. It didn’t take much time to decide to sell the company. I worked for another year in my own private practice, seeing clients 5-10 hours a week. (The paradox became that I was working less, making more money and finding fulfillment in new areas of my life.)

Justin’s dejobbing/unjobbing journey has been drastically different. So much of a man’s value is tied up in his ability to provide for his family that even when Justin is providing for our needs (not just monetarily, but our need for time with him as well) he still worries that it’s not enough if his work doesn’t consume 40-80 hours of his week.

He’s written privately about his process over the past year of losing his job and transitioning into working for himself. It’s been a challenge, albeit a fascinating one. Perhaps someday soon he’ll revive his blog and share it with you.

The past year has brought us to a very different perspective.

We don’t want to work hard through our best years only to retire, exhausted and physically incapable, decades from now.

Nor do we see retirement as something we’re likely to ever do. We love what we do and we plan to continue doing the things we enjoy our entire lives, expanding it or changing it organically.

We don’t view work as a necessary evil either. Nor do we think we need to stick to one thing.

We’ve found doing several things – like writing this blog, running the new website, and offering our mobile services – to be much more enjoyable. We can follow our own inspiration, our own passions and we can allow them to evolve as we do. No more stagnancy. No more boredom.

Our work reflects the evolution of our minds and our lives.

We’re entrepreneurs. We’re unjobbing. We’re unschooling our whole lives.

Want some more reading on unjobbing?

This is obviously just one person’s perspective on what works for us. There is plenty more out there to draw inspiration from. A few favorites:

So…what do you think about unjobbing?

This is obviously a big subject and one I’ve barely even skimmed the surface of, so stay tuned for more posts on the topic in the coming months. And feel free to ask questions in the comments below or send me a question directly: theorganicsister at gmail dot com.

Sculpting A New Passion

It’s been almost three and a half years since Zeb has been out of school. And it’s been five years since he decided – with the negative encouragement from some very poor art teachers at the age of five – to believe he wasn’t an artist.

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.” :D

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

Sculptor

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.

Dragon made of melted plastic

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.

Dragon Funshop

Zeb Sculpting

Zeb's dragon sculptors

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.

A Quiet Aha Moment

what beauty is found
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I had some thoughts last night as I was falling asleep. Nothing too remarkable to anyone but me, I’m sure, but ones that I want to get down in print anyway. I’m not sure what jogged my mind but I suddenly remembered an incident from two years ago.

We had gone on a vacation to the beach with several other family members. We were the only ones there with a child and the trip was close to being a disaster for him – being dragged around with a bunch of adults to places of no interest to him with no other children to play with. We finally had to cut ties and do our own thing to save sanity.

There was one dinner I remember well. We had not been unschooling for very long and were still on shaky ground with all the new ideas. Zeb was still in the first throes of deschooling and I was still learning how to be a different, more peaceful parent. I still had little idea what any of it looked like in real life and we were an unstable pair, for sure! We sat down to eat and Zeb was too stimulated. The typical response came from the adults at the table – the kind that diminishes a child’s needs and insists they comply in ways they are not yet mature enough to handle.

Looking back I can see how I would handle things now. I would have anticipated Zeb’s needs. We would have picked a more child-friendly setting to eat or played outside until the food was ready. I would have done everything within my power to create an environment for success.
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what is dicovered
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But I didn’t do those things and was now faced with seriously contrasting demands on a seriously fragile little boy. I didn’t handle it well but I did the best I could in a very hard situation. I stood up for my son…to the extreme. I stated his needs were more important to me than anyone else’s at the table. Not exactly conducive to a peaceful meal.

But it wasn’t until last night that I realized how important it was that I had that exact experience. As a young mother, I had been faced with criticism and judgement from Day One and had learned to parent with an eye towards the on-lookers. I had grown to fear looking like a “bad” or “permissive”  or stereotypical young mother and instead learned to neglect my child’s need for support and compassion. I believed in order to be accepted and not judged I had to offer only “tough love” to ensure I produced a child others would view as “well raised”.

Out of fear, I cared more for the thoughts of others than I dared care for my own son.

And in that moment at the restaurant I needed – in all my inexperience and shaky beliefs and probably unfounded emotions at that time – to make a stand. To assert for myself and for Zeb that I was not the same. To insist to the world they no longer mattered to me as much as my child, that he now came first and that respect for that was paramount.

Truthfully, to look at it now, it is a rather embarrassing moment. I didn’t handle it well and it certainly wasn’t an shining example of what unschooling, consensual living or peaceful parenting is. I don’t know that I’ve ever related the story to other unschoolers. I’ve never been told what I did wrong or what I could have done differently or what I should do next time. No one was there to point out the “lesson”. It took me two years to really understand my actions like I do now; to see that I had to swing from one end of the pendulum (allowing others to dictate my parenting) to the other (all potential dictators be damned!) in order to find and move from my center. Had someone lectured me in the infantile state I was in, my own embarrassment probably would have shut me down to any perceived criticism or attempts at help. Who wants to be reminded of their shortcomings?
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what shall we behold
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As I lay in bed last night, remembering the words and emotions of the evening, I began to wonder how often those same situations have arose in Zeb’s life. How many times has he made a choice that internally didn’t feel quite right to him? Did I give him the space to ruminate and find a deeper, more meaningful understanding or did I rub salt in the wound by trying to bring the lesson home?

It’s a fine line to walk – to know when to talk it over and when to allow it to brew quietly beneath the surface of their minds. It’s difficult to allow life to teach the real lessons and trust our kids will get it. But I want to remember that tiny voice that whispered to me before I drifted off last night. Healthy kids in healthy environments will get it. We all will. Like me, we just need time and support to adjust or heal or accept what Life is saying.

[Haiku photo idea totally snagged from Molly.]

Juggling Emotions, His and Mine

A week and a half ago, Zeb had a pretty scary fall. He and Justin were rough-housing, Zeb jumped onto his dad’s back, and Justin started swinging him around. Within seconds Zeb went from laughing to screaming as he fell about 4 feet onto our concrete floor. His arms and shoulder mostly broke the fall but he knocked his head very hard. His immediate reaction was obviously to the pain. He cried out and looked terrified but as Justin scooped him up, it quickly turned to anger. He thought his dad had made him fall “on purpose”. He screamed for me and struggled to get out of Justin’s arms. I tried to calm him down, get him to breathe, told him not to be angry, it was an accident. It was my knee-jerk reaction – rationalize, soothe, anything to calm him down.

He did calm down. But something had shifted. He was weepy, and clung to me. His head was pounding and we were watching for signs of a concussion, which was worrying him. He curled up against me and whimpered. He said he needed to cry but couldn’t. That’s about when I realized my knee-jerk reaction probably wasn’t the best.

Birthday Feet

I remembered this post by Mon over at Holistic Mama about allowing babies to cry instead of stopping them from venting pent-up emotions. Not cry-it-out, mind you, but being present and aware of the emotions that require release.

Granted Zeb’s not an infant, but the post had been so thought-provoking. He’s definitely gone through many moments of venting frustrations over the past (as have I). And I’ve been feeling very strongly about the fact that Zeb still hangs onto a lot more anger or hurt over some of his experiences than is really healthy for a nine year old to carry. But I never thought I’ve been guilty of trying to stop those feelings from bubbling up, by denying them through trying to soothe them away.

Zeb

It’s not often such strong emotions find their way out of him like they were trying to that night and there I was immediately jamming up the flow again! I tried to reverse it – I held him and we talked about the event and all the emotions he felt and what he thought had happened and why. And once or twice he would start to get a bit weepier but it wasn’t helping. He wanted to cry and couldn’t let it out. Add to that mix, his drowsiness, his blurred vision, his headache and nausea…

Thankfully, the CT scan was negative. No physical signs of the fall. But his mood had shifted. For several days after the fall he was louder, short-tempered, snarky, sarcastic. None of these totally abnormal qualities for a nine year old, of course and something he’d been working through to some extent before the fall. But I could sense a change. He seemed bitter. It was as if the fall had switched something on.

sword play

I remember the first time I had a spinal adjustment. We see an atlas-orthogonal chiropractor and the affects of the adjustment were intense. Initially, I was dizzy and light-headed but within minutes of walking out of the office, I was angry. Livid. Enraged. I had no idea why and I was scaring myself. All this anger just poured out of me, like a cork had been popped and I found myself driving down the road, screaming in outrage into the steering wheel.

Zeb’s had an adjustment and cranial-sacral work in the past with no major emotional release afterwards. But we went back last Tuesday to have him checked after the head impact. Our doctor was pretty shocked at how out of alignment he was and worked on him for awhile. I could see him start to shift within minutes and by the time we were driving back home, the emotions started coming out. I was so determined not to impede their release this time, so I simply offered him my hand and let him vent. It all came out as anger.

Sword fight

Since that day it’s been flowing and stopping, rushing and trickling from depression to despondency to anger to irritation. We went back to our chiro yesterday for more work and a homeopathic remedy of Helleborus, Arnica and Staphisagria – given for head injuries, as well as pent-up feelings. He’s still a rollercoaster of emotions. And I’m still doing my best to keep up with him, to not inadvertently bottle him up and to simply be there when he’s raging or feeling down. It is so hard to not soothe it away when I know he needs to get it out. It’s so hard to know what is normal and what he needs help with and how to help him. Many times the solution is to simply love him and hold him, but sometimes he’s not in a place where he can accept even my compassion.

It’s very difficult as an unschooling parent to be living such an authentic and inspiring life and still handle all these feelings of anger or sadness in your child. We work so hard to bring joy and health into our lives through everything we do and it can be exasperating to have it all crumble due to an emotional meltdown. It’s certainly not the common unschooling experience but then he didn’t have a common school experience, either. However, through all the ups and downs of his healing, I’m so thankful to be living a lifestyle that allows him to heal at his own pace; that allows us the resources and time to focus on what the moment needs instead of “what needs to be done this moment”. I’m glad I’ve become a much more aware mother than I ever was and can focus on my role and how best to support him. And as hard as it is to say, I’m glad he trusts me enough to throw all these feelings at me when they need to be thrown.