Doing it all in the wrong order

Daisy was thoroughly overtired by 8pm tonight, mostly because of a late night last night, and big day of playing and trampolining. As a result, her inability to spell Mario adequately to search Google for the faux-Mario games that Daddy had been messing about with, reduced her to great heaving sobs of devastation. It all came out: It’s not fair, I can’t write, all my friends can write better than me, all I seem to do is reading, why can’t I do writing instead, etc, etc, etc.

So we had a calming and reassuring cuddle, and I pointed out several key facts to her:

  1. Most of her friends are older than her, and one of them is nine, which is a clear three years her senior. It stands to reason that they should be more expert in such things, after so much more practice.
  2. She identified her one friend who is actually six months younger, and still writes better than she does, so then we talked about how Home Education Is Different.
    Daisy has not been concentrating on writing. One of the important advantages of HE, is that she gets time to focus on learning other things, and to ask the Big Questions which are bothering her. Lots of those questions are about history. She knows an inordinate amount about the Battle of Hastings, even though it’s about 18 months since she looked into it properly, and her recent interests have resulted in in-depth discussions of 20th Century Political History. A couple of weeks ago, we covered, in an hour and a half, and through the medium of conversation,

    • the causes of World War I,
    • the reality of mechanised warfare and unprecedented casualty numbers,
    • the Treaty of Versaille,
    • the effect on Germany,
    • the creation of the League of Nations,
    • the rise of Hitler,
    • the failure of appeasement (with side note that appeasement doesn’t work on Daisy, any more than it worked on Hitler!),
    • the invasion of Czechoslovakia and Poland,
    • World War II,
    • the fall of France,
    • Pearl Harbour,
    • (great great) Uncle Henry dying in Burma,
    • Hiroshima and Nagasaki (side note into nuclear power stations, and Japanese current affairs regarding earthquake, tsunami and crisis-ridden reactors),
    • the partition of Germany,
    • the partition of Berlin (with diagram of West Berlin isolated from Western Europe),
    • the intransigence of post-war USSR and the fear that engendered in the West,
    • the Berlin Wall,
    • the Cold War and associated climate of fear,
    • and the fall of the Berlin wall within my lifetime, after a 40 year stalemate.

    Most six year olds simply don’t have time to learn that stuff, in that depth, and if they do, they probably lack the intellectual energy to do it. There’s other stuff, too, of course. She knows a lot of stuff about National Trust stately homes, and associated history, she’s learning lots of sciency things about the Mersey, and the weather, and states of matter, and other stuff – some of which will coincide with what they learn in schools. But the fact is, her learning is varied and complex and entirely focussed on what she’s interested in, and that’s how it should be.

  3. Because whilst I said I wasn’t brave enough to pursue autonomous education for Daisy, it transpires that I’m not bloody-minded enough to make her learn specific things in a specific order, just because I say so. And the thing I said explicitly to her, tonight, that I’ve probably only implied before, is that she is in charge. If she wants to learn to write, she can. We can do it together. We own work books (which never, ever get opened, mind you), and she is capable of getting them out and practising, but if she wants me to help, I will. Of course I will – what parent says “No, I’m not helping you learn to write”? So, we decided against the work books, but starting tomorrow, we’re going to choose a sentence out of one of her books, and copy it out, every day. I was amazed that she agreed to it, but she seemed very keen.
  4. Of course, we also talked about the most likely outcome, tomorrow morning: that I will waltz up to her, and say, “Do you want to practice that writing, now?” and she will say, “Not just now. Maybe later.” Because she is JUST LIKE HER DAD. Kevin is shockingly bad for agreeing that something needs to be done, but living in a perpetual state of not wanting to do it just NOW. Later. Tomorrow, maybe. It drives me insane. But I’ve told her – it is her choice. I won’t make her do writing if she doesn’t want to. But if she wants to learn to write, there’s really only one way, and that’s by practising. It’s up to her.

So, there we have it. Daisy’s education is broad, balanced, and in entirely the wrong order, if you’re used to thinking about these things in the way that schools do. And tomorrow, we will either start a concerted attempt to meet her self-identified need to practice writing, or we will decide that we don’t care that much after all, and play the Sims. One of those two things.