Writing Because We Love To: Homeschoolers at Work by Susannah Sheffer

This is the 8th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling.

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

Writing Because We Love To: Homeschoolers at Work by Susannah Sheffer is a book about "what children do when they are in charge of their own writing lives." By "in charge," Ms. Sheffer means truly in charge—not simply free to choose from a teacher's pre-selected list of writing options, but free to decide what, when, how and why they'll take the thoughts in their heads and turn them into words on a page.

Typically, teachers are the ones deciding what will go on during a writing lesson and what kind of feedback they'll offer their students. The problem with this approach is that it turns students into passive recipients. Or, as Ms. Sheffer writes:

"If you're sitting in a class that you didn't choose to take, being taught something you're not sure you wanted to learn in the first place, it may be difficult or even impossible to think about what you want from a teacher and whether you're getting it."

Contrast this with a situation where a student has "sought out a teacher because [she] has already come a certain distance on [her] own and now thinks a teacher would be helpful." That's the situation my homeschooled daughter was in when I first contacted Ms. Sheffer back in the late-1990s.

At the age of seven, after two years of public schooling, my daughter had lost nearly all her early interest in writing. The way in which writing was being taught in school killed her desire to write. She felt frustrated and betrayed by her clunky fine motor skills, which couldn't keep up with the pace of her thoughts, and so she abandoned writing altogether for almost an entire year. (One of the perks of homeschooling was that we had the freedom to set aside a despised subject for a while and take it up again later.)

During her year off from formal writing instruction, my daughter learned how to touch type (thanks, Mavis Beacon), and when she was able to type fast enough to suit her purposes, she went back to writing poems, stories and journal entries. Her passion for writing had returned, as I'd hoped it would.

By the time she was approaching her teens, she had written stories she didn't particularly want to show to her mother—not because they contained anything particularly shocking or inappropriate, but because she knew the sort of feedback I was likely to provide wasn't what she needed at the time. She sought an impartial mentor, someone who could give expert, unbiased advice on how to make her story more compelling. She might ask me later to proofread her work before she submitted it to a writing contest or magazine (such as Stone Soup, New Moon, or Teen Ink), but during the early stages of her writing process, my copyedits were not the answer.

So I was grateful when I found a notice for Susannah Sheffer's services in an issue of Growing Without Schooling magazine (discontinued as of 2001, unfortunately). After calling to make arrangements, I slipped my daughter's cover letter and printed pages into a large manila envelope, with a check to cover the consultation fee, and put them in the mail. Within a week or two, the pages came back with Susannah's edits and responses to any questions my daughter had asked. It was exciting for her to be treated like a real writer, getting feedback from a real writer, and it inspired her far more than any contrived writing prompt or scripted exercises ever had.

As for me, I learned from Ms. Sheffer that it's important for students to be able to tell their teachers, "Here's what I'm deciding to write about, here's why I'm writing it, and this is what I want from you." As a home educator, I had examined hundreds of writing tutorials and mountains of "language arts" curricula, but none of them advised me to start by asking my kids what—if anything—writing meant to them. (Well, that's not quite true: Families Writing by Peter Stillman came pretty close.) Looking back now, I shake my head when I recall the times I attempted to "teach writing" to my children by focusing on their spelling, grammar and punctuation. It's not that writing mechanics don't matter, because of course they do—eventually. It's just that learning how to write well demands so much more of us.

About a year ago, I found a paying job doing work I love: I'm currently an editor for Author Accelerator, and I help writers who are eager to finish and publish their books. Every week, my writers submit their pages to me electronically and, within a few days, I send them back my detailed feedback. Over time, I get to know the writers with whom I'm working, and it is always a privilege to be on the receiving end of their stories. Like Ms. Sheffer, I "will always struggle with how best to help them, how to respond appropriately, meaningfully, and in ways that they can truly use." And I'm continually awed by the courage and tenacity of those who are determined to improve their writing and get their novels finished.

Looking back now on the work that Ms. Sheffer did with my daughter, I realize she must have felt similarly about the students she helped. In the Introduction to her book, she writes:

"More than anything else, I hope readers [referring to readers of her book] will come away with an appreciation of the competence young people can achieve and the insight and reflection of which they are capable. . . . We can all learn from these writers who are writing because they love to rather than because they have to, and who have the time and the opportunity to figure out what best serves their work."

I wish you and all students of writing the precious gift of time and opportunity to express yourself with words.

Home Learning Year By Year by Rebecca Rupp

This is the 7th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling. 

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

"There are many roads to an educational Rome," writes Rebecca Rupp in her book, Home Learning Year By Year: How to Design a Homeschool Curriculum from Preschool Through High School. While she isn't the first to advocate moving away from a one-size-fits-all approach to education, she is the only experienced homeschooler I know who has written a comprehensive book aimed at helping those who want to design their own course of study.

I remember when I first came across her book. I was feeling anxious, eager to try something new but not entirely sure how to go about it. I hadn't been homeschooling for long, maybe a few months, but I had already reached a point where I knew the curriculum I'd borrowed from the school wasn't going to work for us. The pre-planned activities were contrived and unrelated to my daughter's interests, and she quickly became bored with the worksheets and textbooks. Now what? I wondered. My trouble was that I had no experience with designing my own curriculum. I'd been assuming I'd be able to depend on McGraw-Hill, Pearson and Houghton-Mifflin to lead the way.

Home Learning Year by Year was just what I needed at the time. It offered me guidance without being prescriptive. Instead of mandating "What Your First Grader Needs to Know," it outlined a typical program of study while allowing for individual differences. Her goal was to help parents become familiar "with the general course of the standardized educational curriculum," but only so that they could use it "as a reference point and a guideline rather than a set of predetermined assignments."

And that's exactly what I used it for: a reference and a guideline.

As a reference, the book offers recommendations for books, websites, games and more. While the recommendations—particularly the URLs—are mostly out-of-date now, they were incredibly helpful during the pre-Internet years, back when I first started homeschooling. Thanks to Rebecca Rupp, my kids and I were introduced to:

• Funny history books by Kathleen Krull and Jean Fritz
• Entertaining math stories, creative hands-on activities, and the remarkable Marilyn Burns
• Janice Van Cleave's science experiments (for all grade levels)
• . . . and much more

As a guideline, Home Learning Year By Year was essential to me because my kids straddled multiple grade levels throughout their homeschooling years. I would skim the chapters to get a sense of how my children were doing in various subjects and adjust my plans accordingly. For example, if at the age of seven my daughter was already comfortable with "fourth-grade" mathematics but hadn't yet figured out how to use a dictionary, I might spend a little time showing her how guide words work instead of recommending yet another math game to her.

Home Learning Year By Year was a book I turned to again and again because it comforted me to see that even though I wasn't dictating what my children should learn from one year to the next, they were always making progress, mastering different skills each year. I took Ms. Rupp's wise advice to heart, and I share it with you here:

"No parent should view the standardized curriculum as cause for worry. Children vary, and homeschoolers inevitably will find that their more-or-less first grader isn't quite standard. . . . The standardized curriculum can indicate academic areas in which kids need extra help and support—or creative substitutes and alternatives, or stress-reducing periods of being left alone. Variation, though, is normal, and our many individual differences are what make the world the interesting place it is. Kids are natural learners, and each will find his or her own best way to learn."

Dumbing Us Down by John Taylor Gatto

This is the 6th post in my series about books related to teaching, learning and homeschooling. 

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

I first came across Dumbing Us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling (1st edition, 1991) at a homeschooling conference. At the time, I was trying to understand why my mostly positive memories of elementary school in the 1960s were not enough to overcome my adverse reaction to sending my daughter to school in 1996. How had something that had felt so right for me, when I was a child, become something that felt so wrong for my own free-spirited little girl?

At first, all I had to go on was a gut feeling, because I hadn't yet found the words to describe exactly what it was about the school environment that bothered me, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I just knew there was something about the way my daughter was being instructed and confined all day that didn't sit well with me. What had been OK for me was not something I was willing to accept for her.  It was as simple—and irrational—as that. What I needed was a rational explanation for what my instincts were telling me.

I think that's why Dumbing Us Down caught my attention. "Strong Words from the New York State Teacher of the Year" the cover proclaimed. Glancing at the back of the book, I learned the author was a teacher who had broken ranks and turned against the system that had employed him.  He had resigned "after 26 years of award-winning teaching in Manhattan's public schools." What had happened to provoke this teacher, who in his book describes school as "a twelve-year jail sentence where bad habits are the only curriculum truly learned"? 

Strong words, indeed, but was there any truth to them? I bought a copy of the book to decide for myself. In the first chapter, I read about the seven lessons that make up the "hidden curriculum of compulsory schooling." They are, according to Gatto:

1. Confusion—"Everything I teach is out of context."
2. Class Position—"The variety of ways children are numbered by schools has increased dramatically, until it is hard to see the human beings plainly under the weight of the numbers they carry."
3. Indifference—"The lesson of bells is that no work is worth finishing, so why care too deeply about anything?"
4. Emotional Dependency—"By stars and red checks, smiles and frowns, prizes, honors, and disgraces, I teach kids to surrender their will to the predestinated chain of command."
5. Intellectual Dependency—"Good students wait for a teacher to tell them what to do."
6. Provisional Self-Esteem—"I teach that a kid's self-respect should depend on expert opinion. My kids are constantly evaluated and judged." "Self-evaluation, the staple of every major philosophical system that ever appeared on the planet, is never considered a factor."
7. One Can't Hide—"I teach students they are always watched, that each is under constant surveillance by myself and my colleagues."

Although I didn't agree with all the libertarian rhetoric in Gatto's book—too many sweeping generalizations and not enough evidence to convince me—his list of lessons validated what I had been feeling. My daughter had already complained (in first grade!) about doing work that seemed meaningless (i.e., out of context). She grumbled about not having enough time to finish her work and the lack of "alone time." And, as her mother, I was concerned about her lack of freedom: her teacher made all the decisions about what, when and how to learn, leaving little opportunity for self-directed learning or "free play." 

So, why hadn't these things bothered me when I was in school? I think it was because I was the kind of child who needed a place that was predictable, where expectations were clear and consistent. I thrived on the gold stars and approval I got from teachers. For reasons I won't go into here, I didn't expect to have control over my own life, so I was ripe for schooling.

But a child who has always been encouraged to believe in herself and pursue her own dreams knows what freedom feels like. She takes for granted her ability to branch out and explore, gradually widening her reach as she grows older. I think that's why putting my daughter into school felt so much like putting her into a cage. Compared to her life at home and within a larger community, it was too limiting, too confining, too prescriptive. I wanted her to have access to a bigger experience than school could provide. 

That's what Gatto's book helped me to see:

"Whatever an education is, it should make you a unique individual, not a conformist; it should furnish you with an original spirit with which to tackle the big challenges; it should allow you to find values which will be your road map through life; it should make you spiritually rich, a person who loves whatever you are doing, wherever you are, whomever you are with; it should teach you what is important, how to live and how to die." 

What the Young and the Old Have in Common

Atul Gawande is the kind of person who makes the rest of us feel inadequate. It isn't enough for him to be a Rhodes Scholar, Harvard Medical school graduate, and surgeon at Brigham and Women's Hospital (arguably one of the finest teaching hospitals in the world). He's also a researcher, a journalist (having written articles for Slate and The New Yorker), the author of four popular books (Complications, Better, Checklist Manifesto, and the recently released Being Mortal), and—oh yes—a loving husband and father to three children. According to his Wikipedia entry, "He enjoys reading." How he finds the time is anyone's guess. In short: he's amazing.

I've always been fascinated by medicine, and there's nothing I enjoy more than curling up with a well-written nonfiction book. So, not surprisingly, I've loved everything Dr. Gawande has written. Being Mortal is his best so far. It is terrifying (because he makes us think about our own mortality), poignant, informative, tragic and brilliant. And, quite unexpectedly, it includes insights into why schools aren't necessarily the best places for our kids to be spending so many hours of their days, so many months of the year, for so many years of their young lives.

Did Dr. Gawande intend for his newest book to be a commentary on our educational system? I'm sure he didn't. In fact, he might not even agree with me. But as I was reading along, I kept coming across passages that I believe apply as much to education as they do to elder care. 

Personalized Learning and Student Choice

"It is frankly difficult to understand how anyone can talk about school reform without immediately addressing the question of how students can be given more say about what goes on in their classes." —Alfie Kohn, "Choices for Children: Why and How to Let Students Decide"

I'm going to play Devil's Advocate for a moment and ask, "Why talk about school reform at all?" The old school model of "I teach, you learn" works—sort of. During the twelve years or more when students are in school, a large percentage of them manage to learn. If not everything, at least something. Most graduate and eventually get jobs.

It isn't a perfect system, but what is? Why not continue to teach our children in the same way that our parents and grandparents learned?

If this doesn't strike you as absurd, then you may be the type of learner for whom the system was designed. You might like following instructions, knowing what to expect, and having everything planned in advance for you. Perhaps you learn well from books and lectures and are very good at recalling what you have read or heard. Maybe you get high marks on standardized tests. There isn't necessarily anything wrong with learning in this way; in fact, I happen to be one of the people for whom this old-school model works pretty well. It simply isn't optimum for all people, all of the time.

There's another problem with doing things the same way we've always done them: it doesn't result in progress. To improve upon an idea, we have to be willing to try something new. Even if we acknowledge that the old model "worked" well enough to provide an adequate education for large numbers of students, no one would describe our current educational system as flawless. There's always room for improvement. No educator deserving of the title would be satisfied with "good enough," so we have to keep asking ourselves: How can we do a better job?

Here's where I agree with Alfie Kohn: one way we can do a better job is by giving students "more say about what goes on in their classes."

I'm familiar with Kohn's books (Punished By Rewards, The Case Against Standardized Testing, The Schools Our Children Deserve) and was pleased to see his article listed among the course materials for Week 4 of DLMOOC. Kohn summarizes the benefits of including students in the decision-making process, such as an improved sense of well-being, better self-discipline, greater academic achievement, avoidance of burnout (student and teacher), and democracy in action. He writes:

"There is nothing new about the idea that students should be able to participate, individually and collectively, in making decisions. This conviction has long played a role in schools designated as progressive, democratic, open, free, experimental, or alternative; in educational philosophies called developmental, constructivist, holistic, or learner-centered; in specific innovations such as whole-language learning, discovery-based science, or authentic assessment; and in the daily practice of teachers whose natural instinct is to treat children with respect."

The theme for Week 4 of the Deeper Learning MOOC has been personalized learning, student voice, and student choice—topics I have written about in several earlier posts (see, for example, Choices: Too Many, Not Enough, or Just Right? and Treating Students as Equal Partners). I'm delighted to have been introduced, through the DLMOOC, to many people who are working hard to create opportunities for students in schools to have a say in what and how they learn. The panelists for this week's discussion were inspiring.



Keven Kroehler, Executive Director for Edvisions Schools, talks about creating a "level playing field" in schools, where the contributions of students and teachers are equally valued and respected. He comments that "students think of things that teachers hadn't thought of," which reminded me of a few situations I faced last year (When Your Students Know More Than You Do, and Lessons Learned). Kevin also emphasized the importance of offering students authentic choices—the ability to make decisions about things that matter to them—rather than false choices, as in, "Which of these two preselected, mandatory activities do you want to do?" Kids know when they are being manipulated.  

Likewise, I appreciated panelist Kathleen Cushman's perspective on student voice. She talked about students being "citizens, not subjects," and described student voice as an "equity issue."She asks teachers to consider: "Whose voice gets listened to? Who gets to speak?" She recommends what I call "The Smorgasbord Approach," exposing students to a variety of things and allowing them to choose what interests them (as I describe in my post on Nurturing Interest-Based Learning). 

Panelist Brandon Wiley, Director of Asia Society's International Studies Schools Network (ISSN), talked about the importance of "recognizing students as key constituents, clients, customers," and giving them "a seat at the table," and I nodded my head in agreement. If students are the "key constituents," then it's inconceivable for them to be left out of the planning, implementation and evaluation of their work. This requires us to change how we think about everything: what students learn, how they learn it, and how they demonstrate their learning.  

I enjoyed hearing the DLMOOC panelists describe their iterative design process (similar to what I blogged about in Kindergarten-Style Planning), and it was interesting to me to see how this approach works in a school setting. Teachers collaborated not only with their students but with other teachers, parents, and members of the community. They developed a student's plan of study incrementally, continually learning and building upon what they discovered as they went along. During each stage of the project (planning, implementing, assessing), all the people with a vested interest were consulted and given opportunities to provide feedback. While this must have complicated the decision-making process, it also helped everyone make new connections, personally and cognitively.

The students who were on the "Lens into the Classroom" Student Panel for Week 4 were engaging, too.


Allowing students to have a say in how they learn is a school reform that has clearly made a big difference in the lives of these students. While this doesn't prove that all students' learning would necessarily be deepened in a High Tech High type of school, it seems likely that it would. Even the students who prefer a more traditional approach would benefit, because they could choose that method for themselves.

When my youngest daughter was fourteen, she said she wanted to attend the public high school in our town. Up until that point, she had always been homeschooled and free to choose what, when and how she learned. Why would she want to give that up? There were a variety of reasons—she wanted to see what school was like; she was interested in meeting more kids her age than she could find in the homeschooling community; she wanted to learn in a classroom setting. Ultimately, what mattered most was that she had a choice. She could return to homeschooling at any time, and she knew that was an option. That made all the difference in how she approached her education. She evaluated her own needs, assessed what the school had to offer, and figured out how to make the best use of her time there.

Giving kids choice doesn't mean deciding what that choice should be. It means we allow kids to figure out who they are and what they need to grow and thrive. A structured classroom with a teacher lecturing in the front isn't necessarily going to prevent deeper learning, but it shouldn't be the only option.

When Play and Experimentation Aren't Enough

I love to watch toddlers at play—totally engrossed in what they are doing, blissfully unselfconscious. While nearby adults provide safe boundaries and may be consulted occasionally for help or encouragement, toddlers are at their best when they are self-directed. For long stretches of time, they tinker with the objects in their environment and use a process of trial and error to discover how things work.

What if people of all ages could learn everything they ever needed to know on their own, simply by tinkering? There's no doubt that we can learn a lot without any formal instruction or assistance, but not all of us have the genius of Michael Faraday (one of "Six Uneducated Amateurs Whose Genius Changed the World") or Kelvin Doe, the African teen who taught himself how to build batteries, generators and transmitters:


The rest of us ordinary mortals usually find that tinkering only takes us so far. Eventually, we get stuck and our learning levels off. Maybe we don't care because we're content with the level of learning we've achieved. For example, I learned all I wanted to know about paper quilling from a Klutz book and a few afternoons of tinkering. Then again, maybe we will care a great deal, because our passion is to become the best writer, mathematician, or musician we have it in us to be. When my music-loving daughter wanted to take her self-taught guitar playing skills to the next level, she sought help from a professional musician.

Can Formal and Informal Learning Peacefully Coexist?

Recently, I read Joi Ito's blog post on "Formal vs. Informal Learning,"and I have been thinking about a question he asked in his post:

"Is there a way to support and acknowledge the importance of informal learning and allow those of us who work better in interest[-based] and self-motivated learning to do so without the social stigma and lack of support that is currently associated with dropping out of formal education?" 

For many years now, I have been wanting to get away from the either-or conversation about school. Either you go to school and accept the highly structured, teacher-led style of learning—complete with frequent tests and grading—or you don't. The homeschooling community includes many who opted out of schools because their kids, like Joi Ito, were much happier and more motivated when they weren't confined to a classroom under the constant direction of a teacher. Although it wasn't easy to drop out of the mainstream, it was worth the sacrifice to gain greater flexibility and freedom.