Tidal Homeschooling

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People often ask me what kind of homeschoolers we are: Classical? Charlotte Mason? Eclectic? Delight-Directed? Unschoolers? How, they want to know, does learning happen in our home? Am I in charge, or do I let the kids lead the way? And what about math?

Over the years I have written with enthusiasm about the Charlotte Mason method (which is highly structured) and unschooling (which is not). These educational philosophies seem to have intertwined themselves in my home, so that the what we do—read great books, study nature, dive deeply into history, immerse ourselves in picture study and composer study—is highly influenced by Charlotte’s writings and their modern counterparts; and the how we do it—through strewing and conversation and leisurely, child-led exploration—is influenced by the writings of John Holt, Sandra Dodd, and other advocates of unschooling. But I couldn’t say we’re "real CMers" because I don’t carry out Miss Mason’s recommendations in anything like the structured manner she prescribed; and I probably do too much behind-the-scenes nudging for us to be considered "real unschoolers."
 
The truth is, I couldn’t find any label that completely fit my family, so I made up my own. I call us "Tidal Learners" because the ways in which we approach education here change with the tide. Now, this doesn’t mean that we’re flighty or inconsistent, changing direction haphazardly. We aren’t Fiddler Crab Homeschoolers. What I mean is that there is a rhythm to the way learning happens here; there are upbeats and downbeats; there is an ebb and flow.

We have high tide times when I charter a boat and we set sail with purpose and direction, deliberately casting our net for a particular type of fish. On these excursions I am the captain; I have charted the course. But the children are eager crew members because they know I value their contributions. And also I provide generous rations. No stale or moldy bread on this ship: no dull textbooks, no dry workbooks. My sailors sink their teeth into fresh, hearty bread slathered with rich butter and tart-sweet jam. Well fed and proud of their work, my little crew exhilarates in the voyage. Every journey is an adventure.

And we have low tide times when we amble along the shore, peering into tide pools and digging in the sand, or just relaxing under beach umbrella. The children wander off in directions of their own choosing; they dig and poke and ponder. One of them may crouch over a rock pool and stay there for days, studying, watching. Another will run headlong into the waves, thrilling to the pull on her legs, splashing, leaping, diving under and emerging triumphantly farther out. Or a child might prefer to stay close by my side, drawing stick pictures in the sand or building a castle. All of these things may be happening at once. Sometimes it looks as though nothing is happening: there’s just an array of bodies on beach towels. But oh, the nourishment there is in a time of quiet reflection while the soul soaks up the sunlight!

Our family enjoys both kinds of learning—the heady adventure of the well-planned fishing trip, with a goal and a destination in mind, and the mellower joys of undirected discovery during weeks at the metaphorical beach. Around here, the low tide times happen much more often than the high tide times, and often I find that the children catch more fish, so to speak, when the tide is out. Beachcombing reveals many treasures. But they do enjoy their excursions with Cap’n Mom. I really believe joy is the key, the element we breathe whether the tide is in or out. It’s the wind that propels our ship; it’s the tangy breeze that cools and refreshes us on the beach.

In the coming days I’ll write about how the metaphor plays out in our house on a practical level. "So what do you do all day?" is a question I’m often asked, and since every day is different, it’s easiest to answer that question with snapshots and specifics. Right now, this week, we’re spending our mornings on the boat. We’re studying sign language and German; we’re enjoying a Robert Frost poem every day; we’re reading a book of English history together as well as the oft-mentioned The Penderwicks. Jane spends time on her self-prescribed drawing exercises every day, and my funny Rose continues her dogged pursuit of ancient Greek. (More on that another day). I’ve plotted a rough course that should bring us back into port in early April, when the newest member of our crew will arrive. And then I expect the tide will go out for quite a long time. It’s always a low tide time for us in spring, even when there isn’t a new baby. I’m laying in a good supply of books to read from the shade of my umbrella, but I imagine the children will spend most of their time off exploring the shore.


Read more about Tidal Homeschooling herehere, and here.

14 thoughts on “Tidal Homeschooling”

  1. Lissa -=- this is such a great description of a homeschool! I love the imagery. We too have started German (we might be going back to Austria) and we’re enjoying a book about El Cid by Geraldine McCaughrean. It’s wonderful!
    Keep posting about the Tidal Homeschool — this is fascinating.

  2. This was so great, love the imagry(sp?) and metaphoric descriptions. I wish we were all at the beach with you right now. We happen to be hunkering down after a great all-day snow from yesterday! Warmly, M.H.

  3. Brilliant! And particularly resonant for me as I finish packing for our five-week trip to the Caribbean to see my parents. Thank you : )

  4. Great description of your day! You continue to amaze me. Since our new arrival(5 weeks ago), I feel like it’s all I can do to read 2 books to my kids each day, and I don’t even homeschool(although I still have the dream)! Just don’t know if I can handle it.

  5. Canival of Unschooling #2

    Just like dawn rising, snow melting and spring flowers easing their way into the sunshine, many long-term homeschoolers find themselves in a full-blown summer of unschooling, not quite sure how they got there.
    But first, for the new readers, WFR at E…

  6. All Roads Lead to Rome (Even for Bunnies)

    The Sabine Women, Jacques-Louis David, 1796-99 Over at Bonny Glen I’ve been talking about the connections my kids are making during our read-aloud of Famous Men of Rome. This is for me one of the best things about homeschooling: watching

  7. Oh, yes. This is perfect. This Tidal Learning makes so much sense to me. My girls are only three-years old right now, but this is where I feel we are. I love the philosophy of unschooling and am even going to the Rethinking Education Conference in Dallas next week, but I really feel that my family also needs a rhythm. I want my children to lead their education through their interests and I want to be able to create some cool projects with them that I think would be interesting for them. This blend (I love your metaphor of the low and high tide) is what feels right in my gut for us, too. I’m glad I found this blog because I was feeling somewhat stuck in the middle. It is nice to know that there are others out there doing the same thing and making it work enjoyably for all. Thanks.

  8. I am SO excited to have stumbled upon your website. You have defined our homeschool method. Some times I find something great that I want to have the kids learn about and we go head first and then there are days when I let the kids lead the way. I have never heard the “Tidal Homeschool.”
    You have just lifted a great burden off my heart. I am glad to know that it is ok to have low points in our homeschool paths.
    Thank you!!!!

  9. I have often thought of our learning metaphorically as ebbing & flowing, so I definitely relate to your term tidal homeschooling. 🙂

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