A Sense of Self: Listening to Homeschooled Adolescent Girls by Susannah Sheffer

This is the 9th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling.

(See my earlier post for a description of the series.)

"Many reports claim adolescent girls' self-esteem fades in their teenage years. But girls interviewed in this book do not experience this loss of a sense of self. The difference is they are homeschooled girls, girls who learn at home and in the community rather than by going to school."—Susannah Sheffer, A Sense of Self

I read A Sense of Self: Listening to Homeschooled Adolescent Girls when my eldest daughter was entering adolescence and thinking about attending high school. Around the same time, I also read Reviving Ophelia by Mary Pipher. What a different picture these two books painted of growing up female in our society! One describes how homeschooled girls feel about themselves and their lives when they are given significant levels of choice, autonomy, and control over what, when and how they learn. The other describes how difficult it can be for girls who attend school full-time to develop a sense of self when they are continually pressured to give up what they know and feel, to mold themselves to suit the needs of others. I read both books because I wanted to know whether sending my daughter to high school would be likely to have a negative impact on her. (A few years later, my younger daughter would also wrestle with the to-school-or-not-to-school decision.) Regardless of where my daughter opted to learn,  I wanted her to believe in herself and her ability to decide what was in her own best interest. I didn't want her to think she had to rely on others to dictate who she should be.

As I read Reviving Ophelia, I recalled my own adolescence and how I had felt unsure of myself, pressured to consider what other people would want me to say or do before I acted. Back then, I claimed I didn't care about anyone else's opinion of me, but it wasn't really true. I looked to teachers to tell me I was "good," boys to tell me I was "pretty," and people in general to tell me whether I had worth. I'm embarrassed to admit it now—as a fifty-something adult, I no longer feel the same way—but Reviving Ophelia brought back all those old feelings of insecurity and questionable self-esteem. The book described who I had been when I was a teen attending a public high school. But, oddly enough, it didn't describe my daughters or their homeschooled female friends very well. Not that these girls didn't have growing pains—of course they did—but their experience was quite different from what schooled girls go through.

As teenagers go, the homeschooled girls I knew were remarkably at ease in my company, unusually comfortable in their own skins, and very interested in being faithful to their own idiosyncratic selves. They were inner-directed, and it showed. I loved their authenticity and individuality, their courage and assertiveness. I wanted to understand what had allowed them to reject cultural pressures. How had they avoided becoming compliant, hyper-sexualized, and self-deprecating—the supposed "norm" for the adolescent girls described in Reviving Ophelia? Were they simply anomalies, or had homeschooling actually made it easier for these girls to form their own opinions and make their own decisions?

It's hard to say, but Sheffer's research indicates that it certainly helps to be free of the educational structures that diminish opportunities for making meaningful choices.

"If we want girls to be able to look to their own authority, we have to structure school in such a way that it is not always the external authority that holds the answers or determines when something is completed or learned or done well enough. If we want girls to identify with the goals they are pursuing, we have to give them the opportunity to choose goals with which they do identify and then to pursue those goals with our help."

But what happens when a girl in her teens who has been homeschooled transitions into a school setting? Are all the previous gains from homeschooling lost at that point? That's what I wanted to know. The answer seems to be "no."

In Chapter 5: Acts of Resistance, Sheffer considers this homeschool-to-school scenario. She writes:

"Simply being able to choose whether to attend school puts these young people in a very different position from most American teenagers. It's an opportunity to think seriously about what kind of person they are and what kind of life they want." 

I discovered the truth of this when my daughters decided to go to school after a lifetime of homeschooling. My eldest began attending an early college at age 16, and her younger sister attended our local high school starting at age 14. I saw how having the option to opt-out of school,  but choosing to opt in, was an empowering experience for both of them. To reach a decision, they had to consider what was important to them, what they wanted, what they believed would be in their own best interests. This one pivotal decision added to their understanding of who they were and what really mattered to them, and that in turn gave them the self-confidence to continue asserting themselves once they were in school.

Of course, as Sheffer points out, "homeschooled girls do face challenges to their sense of self, and they have to figure out whether and how to resist these challenges . . . [but] homeschooling gives them certain kinds of tools that help to make healthy resistance possible."

I'm not saying that all girls should be homeschooled, but I do think it's worth taking a look at what works, whatever the learning context might be, so that we can empower all young women and help them to develop a strong sense of self.

Homeschooling and the Transition to College

It seems ludicrous now, but when I first began homeschooling, one question that arose was, "What about college?" My oldest child at the time was barely seven years old, and college seemed a long way off to me. Besides, I had other things to worry about, such as how I was going to manage to teach anything—never mind college-preparatory academics—to my precocious second grader when I also had an inquisitive four-year-old and a rambunctious one-year-old (not yet weaned) who were constantly vying for my attention.

I decided early on that we'd just have to take it one day at a time. We'd think about college "later." Still, the question of "What about college?" nagged me, especially when well-meaning friends or family members asked it.

So, when I had a spare moment to myself, I researched the topic. I started by reading Homeschooling for Excellence by David and Micki Colfax (1988). The book came to me highly recommended, and the authors wrote—without seeming to brag—about how three out of four of their children were accepted into Harvard after being homeschooled. (Not just accepted: I found out they went on to become doctors and lawyers. One of them is even a doctor and a lawyer.)

While the book reassured many who had doubted whether homeschooling could ever lead to college, personally I was overwhelmed and intimidated by it. It gave me an inferiority complex the size of the moon. The Colfaxes were incredibly industrious homesteaders: they built their own home from scratch, wired the power lines to it, grew their own food, and cleverly incorporated math and science lessons into practically everything they did.

Are you kidding me? No wonder their kids were accepted into Harvard!

It's time for me to confess: the closest our family ever came to building a house was banging a pile of boards together to create a modest tree fort (with heartfelt thanks to my husband for making that happen). On a good day, we were able to sprout beans between two paper towels, or keep a few "sea monkeys" alive, but we weren't exactly capable of self-sufficiency.

If our family had had to rely on our meager garden for food, we definitely would have starved to death.

Luckily for us, the ability to transition from homeschooling to college depends on more than "life skills." While my kids might be glad they learned how to knit, sew, cook and do their own laundry, it's unlikely those skills are what helped them get into college. As far as I can tell, the acceptance process seems to be all about extraordinary achievements and academic credentials, sprinkled with a little luck and storytelling ability.

In a recent article about "Highly Selective College Admissions for Homeschoolers" (from HomeschoolSuccess.com), homeschoolers are reminded that "competition is fierce" and "the fact that homeschooling is great and your kid is homeschooled isn’t enough." If your student is aiming for a top college, the article insists, there are a few things to keep in mind:

• College applicants, whether they are homeschooled or not, need a well-documented academic record with challenging courses. As the article points out, "A basic expectation for students who wish to be competitive in highly selective admissions is that they have a rigorous high school education with strong development in all of the core areas: math, English, social science, science, and foreign language."

• For homeschoolers who don't have an official transcript from an accredited high school to submit—as was the case for two of my three kids—the "documentation" can get complicated. Selective colleges typically want records that have been validated or provided by an outside source: letters of recommendation from teachers, mentors and coaches; community college or other formal course transcripts; evidence of awards won, especially at the national level; and various test scores. 

• And about those test scores . . . although some colleges are now "test optional," meaning they do not require SAT or ACT scores, "test optional policies may exclude homeschoolers." In other words, homeschooled students sometimes need to submit test scores that schooled students are not required to submit. For example, my son learned too late that Northeastern University (as of 2013–2014) requires applicants to the College of Engineering to submit scores for the SAT or ACT plus two SAT subject tests, one in mathematics (which he had taken) and one in physics (which he hadn't). These are in addition to: the required list of all textbooks used; the School Report portion of The Common Application (which includes a special set of questions required only for homeschooled students); and a transcript of high school courses, prepared by the parent or an outside agency.

• "Most [homeschoolers accepted to selective colleges] also have used the flexibility afforded by homeschooling to develop some special area of talent or extracurricular interest." For the Colfaxes, it was homesteading. Other homeschoolers have built robots, started a business, or excelled as artists, musicians or athletes. MIT, Yale, and Princeton all emphasize the importance of doing something extraordinary as a homeschooler, rather than simply assuming your homeschooling will serve as a Golden Ticket (Willy Wonka style) for admission. 

In spite of all these hurdles, it's certainly possible for a homeschooled student to be admitted and to excel in a selective college. Although the data is sparse on exactly how many and where homeschooled students attend college, there's this list of Colleges That Admit Homeschoolers as well as my own, anecdotal evidence: my kids were offered admission as well as merit scholarships to several colleges, including Simon's Rock College of Bard, UC Berkeley, Northeastern University, and Worcester Polytechnic Institute (in a year when only 10% of applicants were accepted). Their friends got into Vassar College, Bennington College, Berklee College of Music, and many other schools. Did these kids also receive rejection letters? Yes, just as their schooled peers did.

Homeschooled students can go to college. They can do well once they get there (for example, see Exploring Academic Outcomes of Homeschooled Students, Journal of College Admission, 2010). The real risk is assuming that the doors to selective colleges will be held open, or kept closed, simply because a student is educated in an unconventional way. It's up to students and their families to work hard, keep good records, be aware of any special admission requirements, and prepare the best application they can when the time comes.

What Now? The Conclusion of My Home Education

"He is so completely dependent upon me," marvels the beautiful young woman standing in front of me. She looks happy, perhaps a bit tired, and sweetly amazed and overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility she clearly feels for the newborn baby swaddled snugly against her chest. Her infant son fidgets slightly and attempts to suckle on the fabric near his tiny mouth, and I am flooded with memories.

I remember well how it felt to be a new mother—that paradoxical mixture of infatuation and terror. I empathize with what she must be going through and wish I could express all the sympathy, excitement, and compassion I feel for her and her husband in that moment. But suddenly my throat tightens and I'm unable to speak, so I simply smile back at her instead. My husband, standing next to me, is equally quiet, and I suspect he is as moved as I am by the unexpected sight of this baby.

It would be impossible for us not to think of our own son, who happens to be away this week and will soon be leaving home to attend a residential college out of state. I think to myself, "He is so completely not dependent upon me (anymore)." I have to breathe carefully to avoid bursting into tears.

My "baby" boy's years of physical dependency are in the distant past; these days, when I try to do something for him, he is as likely as not to reject my attempts at mothering. Most of the time, I admire his independence, and rationally I understand that this is all good; it is how things are supposed to be. My job from the beginning has been to help him grow progressively less dependent upon me and more confident in himself, and now I know I have been successful because he has grown into a capable and conscientious young man, ready to go out into the world and seek his fortune.

My son follows in the footsteps of his two older sisters, who have likewise asserted their independence, gone off to college, and settled in places of their own. I am proud, happy and excited to see them as young adults. I enjoy spending time with my children as much now as I always have.

But, in spite of my understanding, I can't help mourning the loss of that intense closeness we once shared. The everyday routine of living, learning and questioning that is normal for a homeschooling family was what made my life wonder–full. I can't believe it's ending! My heart aches—not metaphorically but in a very real and physical way—when I think of my youngest child leaving for college this fall. I am going to miss him as immensely as I already miss his sisters. More than that, I am going to miss being a home educator and spending my days with the homeschooling friends I have made over the years.

And yet, how many people can say they have no regrets? What an extraordinary adventure the past 17 years have been! I have seen, done, and learned so much as a home educator. As a mother, coach and mentor, I feel as though I have gone through all the grades several times over, learning and relearning every subject along with my kids. (That's more interesting than it sounds: I have studied some topics as if for the first time—prompting me to wonder: did I ever really learn about European history back when I was in school?—and I have rediscovered other subjects from a newer, fresher perspective.)

With each question or problem that arose, I moved deeper into various areas of expertise as I explored what worked, what didn't, and why. Fascinated by the subjects I was teaching and the pedagogies I embraced, I continued to be enriched by the ongoing process of mutual education. Many times over, I enjoyed the thrill of the "Aha!' moment, when everything at last became clear.

Could anything ever be as satisfying to me as homeschooling has been? I have trouble imagining it, but then I never imagined myself as someone who would spend nearly two decades as a home educator. Life can be surprising, so I'm keeping an open mind as I look for work and consider how the skills I've developed as an educator might be useful in a different context.

Teens Reflect on Pros and Cons of Social Media Use

Recently, I asked a group of homeschooled teens to complete a questionnaire about how much time they spend using social media (texting, instant messaging, emailing, posting on Facebook, talking on Skype, gaming, and watching videos). Unlike the stereotypical teens I hear so much about, this group of adolescents did not seem particularly attached to their devices—I rarely saw them with a phone in their hands, for example—so I suspected they were less apt to engage in technologically-mediated conversations than their schooled peers. However, what I learned about their use and perception of social media surprised me.

Thriving in the Digital Age

I've fallen behind on my postings but have been working steadily on plans for the course I described in earlier posts. The website for the course, Thriving in the Digital Age, is now available for browsing! Although the course is still a work in progress, most of the overall framework is solid at this point.

I've made some changes to my original plans. In Building on TED Talks: A Course for High School Seniors (Part I), I identified four tentative themes for grouping the talks and readings:

1. How We Think About Ourselves
2. How We Think About and Use Technology
3. How We Relate to One Another
4. How We Offer to Help Those Who Need It

I've since changed the themes for the course slightly to suit the needs of the students who will be participating. After discovering that one of my students was planning to take a college course on Global Social Issues this fall, I decided that much of what I had in mind for the fourth theme ("How We Offer to Help Those Who Need It," which included TED talks and related books by Jacqueline Novogratz, Dan Pallotta, Paul Collier, and Melinda Gates) would be too redundant. In a way, this was a relief to me: I was already worried that the focus of the course was too broad, and I was searching for a way to narrow it. Also, two of the books I was considering—The Bottom Billion by Collier, Charity Case by Pallotta—seemed as though they might not be a good fit for a few of my other students. 

So, I set aside the fourth theme, did some reorganizing, and ended up with the following themes instead: 

1. Empowerment, Personal and Political. What makes us feel empowered (or disempowered)? What types of situations or social conditions encourage more people to participate (online, face-to-face, at work, in our communities, or in general)? How does the internet influence who participates—and how and why do people feel empowered to do so? Why are some people effective leaders, able to motivate people to get involved, while others are not? (This theme is essentially a combination of "How We Think About Ourselves" and "How We Relate to One Another" from my initial planning phase, described above.)
2. Harnessing the Power of Distributed Expertise—How can we optimize our use of massive amounts of aggregated data and collective human brainpower? Major topics include Wikis, gaming, crowd sourcing, hive mind, and "cognitive surplus" (a term coined by Clay Shirky). The emphasis here is on intellectual collaboration.
3. Using Technology Mindfully for Sharing and Collaboration—How is technology changing the way our society functions, or how we are meant to coexist within our society? How might it alter the way we acquire, use and dispose of our "stuff"? Major concepts to be discussed include collaborative consumption, sustainability, open source, and (time permitting) "Sensible Cities." The emphasis here is on economic collaboration.

To explore these themes, I've found wonderful TED Talks and RSA Animates (posted on the Videos page), books (listed in the Syllabus), and websites. I'm excited about the idea of using student and class blogs to encourage discussions outside our weekly class meetings, so I've also added a page on Blogging. And, inspired by Howard Rheingold's admonishments to use technology mindfully, I've recently added a light-hearted page on Procrastination (with links to TED Talks by Vik Nithy, who offers advice on how to stay on task, and Dave Windass, who extols the merits of procrastinating). 

Currently, I'm working on developing ideas for class discussions and projects. I'll post more on those later.

The Benefits of Open Learning

This past week, MIT Media Lab's course in Learning Creative Learning focused on "Open Learning," a term that means different things to different people. Webopedia defines open learning as "an approach to learning that gives students flexibility and choice over what, when, at what pace, where, and how they learn." Described in this way, open learning sounds like it could be another name for interest-based learning. 

However, "Open Learning" refers to more than an educational paradigm; the concept extends to all the freely available materials and resources that support an interest-based (or open) approach to learning. You probably use some of these resources already—Wikipedia, YouTube, Google Earth, Khan Academy—but there are more being added every day. 

As John Seely Brown and Richard Adler state in their article Minds on Fire (Educause Review, 2008), "vast [Internet] resources include the rapidly growing amount of open courseware, access to powerful instruments and simulation models, and scholarly websites, which already number in the hundreds, as well as thousands of niche communities based around specific areas of interest in virtually every field of endeavor" (p. 32). These "open educational resources," or OERs, have expanded learning opportunities for anyone with an internet connection. People from all over the world—and that includes homeschoolers—can easily access, use, adapt, and share high-quality learning materials. 

Making the Best of Online Learning

In his blog post, "An Aggravating and Energizing Hypothetical,"Dan Meyer responds to the claim that an effective online course could eliminate the demand for face-to-face classes. He acknowledges that online courses are useful for lecture videos and machine-scored tests (e.g., the type of courses offered by Thinkwell and many other vendors), but they lack important features that can only be found in a classroom. Specifically, he writes that the Internet does not do well with "student-student and teacher-student relationships, arguments, open problems, performance tasks, projects, modeling, and rich assessments." I have heard these criticisms before, but what of them?

Treating Students as Equal Partners

What does it take to get a group of teenagers interested in history? 

(And is that even the right question to ask?) 

Steven Kreis, author of The History Guide, begins with this observation:

"Let's face it, our first experience with History is that it is a course that we have to take in order to graduate. As a junior and senior high school student we are confronted with American history, state history and perhaps even a general course in western civilization or world history. We didn't have a choice. And the fact that we are forced to take history puts us on the offensive. We begin to build that grandiose brick wall that will prevent us from getting anything important out of history." (Section 1.2, "Why Study History?")

As a student, I never liked teachers who talked down to me, as if my youth and inexperience somehow made me stupid or insignificant. It often seemed as if they had no idea what was going on in my head. Assumptions were made about what I "needed" to know and what the teacher would teach, regardless of what I already knew or wanted to learn more about. So little was within my control when I was in school—to do the homework or not, to raise my hand in class or not. Not surprisingly, even the most erudite lectures lost their appeal when I was compelled to attend, forced to endure long-winded orations that seemed irrelevant to my own life. Aside from my desire to receive high marks in the class, what reason did I have to pay attention? 

MIT Quality, EdX Accessibility

For his fall semester, my son enrolled in an Introduction to Computer Science and Programming course through EdX, a "a not-for-profit enterprise built upon the shared educational missions of its founding partners, Harvard University and MIT." If you have never heard of EdX, take a few minutes to read About EdX before you go on. At the very least, check out the selection of free courses they offer. While all of the courses are described as undergraduate level, a highly motivated high school student could learn from them as well.

As with all of the EdX courses, Introduction to Computer Science and Programming was entirely free, no strings attached. Students have the option of purchasing a textbook (for only $24.99—a great price compared to the cost of most college textbooks), but even so the course does not rely on it, so it is truly optional. In fact, instead of purchasing the optional textbook, my son decided he would take his chances with a book we already owned (Python in a Nutshell: A Desktop Quick Reference by Alex Martelli), and it was more than adequate. 

Now let me digress for a moment to point out that this, right now, is a special moment in time, and I predict it will not last. We have an opportunity to benefit from all of the prestigious universities who want to research how students learn and how technology can transform learning. To test their ideas, they need to experiment. So, here they are, offering free courses as a sort of preliminary field test. We get to explore these courses, for free, as they are being developed. Naturally, the courses won't be perfect, but I've noticed that they are getting better all the time. Eventually, they'll get really good, and at that point I expect the Great Course Giveaway will most likely end and be replaced by a pay-as-you-go type of system. But for now? Enjoy the freebies.