What do you want most for your child?
I have been reading Ben Hewitt’s book, Homegrown, and in it was struck by his desire for his sons to have their sense of place. It resonated with me, the idea of implanting in your child this grounding force, this knowledge of where they belong in the universe, this innate feeling of their correlation enmeshed with their ability to be happy wherever they are and with whatever surrounds them because they feel at home within themselves. While I agree with this sentiment wholeheartedly, it has led me to also consider what else I find vital to impart.
As I touched on in The Four C’s, I think curiosity is essentially the engine that propels humanity. Curiosity goes hand-in-hand with imagination; one fuels the other in a snowballing effect. In my son’s early education, this has been the keystone I have focused on: promoting his curiosity, feeding his wild imagination, exposing him to the possibilities, differences, questions, and wonders that surround us on both a grand and tiny scale: the immense mystery of the cosmos, the global human condition, the life that abounds at dirt-level on our acre.
My assumption has been that with a healthy sense of curiosity and a whopper of an imagination, he will be both inspired to pursue a variety of educational paths naturally and then have the where-with-all to find solutions to problems that arise. I have thought about this in a small scope though, just to the degree they apply to his “school age,” shall I say (though it’s not like there is a point we technically stop learning – I learn far more now as a mother than I did at that age it seems). I know that the more interested and engaged one is with a topic or issue, the more one learns, gleans, probes, and adds to. But it wasn’t until recently I began to think of the longer view and how these elements can be of service to him.
I admit, this fall has not been my favorite. There has been plenty of personal stressors at play in my life that I have yet to sort out, and it has led to plenty of self-reflection. During a recent visit with homeschooling friends, I was asked if I felt I had been adequately prepared for life by my experience being homeschooled/unschooled by my father. My answer was a bit muddled at the time, but I have continued to roll it over in my head and I have realized some of my difficulty in answering is because of the overlap of parenting and education. These two things are – and should be – so connected that it can be hard to discern where or if there is a separation at all. I think now my answer would be something like this: Yes. I was given the tools and the choice to use them. I was exposed to the world while taught that my own space is enough. I have always felt intelligent and competent. I was given the gift of knowing there is more than one path to success, as well as that success is in fact located in more than one destination, including simply finding yourself happy in your own skin. My hesitation in answering was due to my wondering if I should have been pushed harder, forced to achieve more based on capability. Later I concluded this is a very individual parenting decision – and one I don’t yet know quite where I stand on.
This conversation tied in with the importance of curiosity and imagination to me. I sometimes ask myself, as many do, if I should do more “formal educational stuff” and have more consistency and structure. I make the comparison mistake when considering those subjects that are being drilled into my son’s peers. Do they know their ABC’s? Can they read? How high can they count? What sort of math can they do? …And so on. Nope, I am not immune to this line of thought. But then I snap out of it (until next time I forget myself at least) and remember how amazing this child I share space with is. Can he read? No. Is he mesmerized by stories and happily listens to thousands of books a year? Yes, across a vast array of subjects. Can he do basic math? With some help, if he wants to – which, at almost 6, he rarely does. There’s a back yard to play in and the dirt beckons with a siren’s call. What does he have? This insatiable curiosity that perpetually astounds and stumps me as he asks the questions I can’t believe never occurred to me. To keep up with this, he has this ever-burgeoning imagination that is about a half-step away from being able to make something out of absolutely nothing. It is akin to alchemy what he can concoct.
And that is what I want most for him. I want his life to be like this morning, when we sat on the porch and read about the creation of the Boeing 747. Before the book could close his eyes were lit up with possibility and he exclaimed, “I want to build a plane!” There is now a flamingo making test flights through the house in a bucket with everything from a miter box to magnets to vacuum parts attached. I want this because someday he will have a season that doesn’t go well, and he will need to navigate his way through it. He will need to be curious enough to wonder if he can chart a course and be able to imagine possible paths. There is more to pretend play and childhood creations than fun and games; it is them test-driving their problem-solving skills. Daydreams are practice for seeing other possibilities later on when naysayers are telling them something can’t be done. Literacy and arithmetic are essential skills, but so is the ability to conceptualize something necessary, new, audacious, or maybe even a little crazy. I want him to always be able to come up with a question for himself and then work out multiple ways to answers from there. My dad liked to say with a lever placed strategically enough one could move anything, and so what I want most for him is to equip him with the lever of imagination placed just so on the fulcrum of curiosity.
What is important for you?