Notes on apology

I have found that as I connect with other unschooling families, many of us come from emotionally abusive backgrounds. Perhaps, emotional abuse is far too prevalent, and unschooling helps people give it a name. If you are trying to have a peaceful, respectful relationship with your kids, you start to see how other relationships are... Continue Reading →

The Privilege of Parenting Perfection

I would love to write posts on this blog where I detail the deep conversations I've had with my kids after reading beautiful social justice books. I'd love to be that white cis-woman parent who has stacks of children's books with innovative art detailing the trail of tears, Japanese internment, civil rights--everything I think my... Continue Reading →

“Nebraska” is an Unschooling Movie

At that point I realized: this is what I do every day. All day. I participate in wild fantasy, I take emotional pain seriously even when it seems to me to be so tenuously linked to reality, because I have respect for my kids. Because I want to get to know them. Because I have power over them but I don't condescend to them. I don't pretend to know them better than they know themselves. Because I respect their emotions, and it's my job as an unschooling parent to support them on their journey. Because I want to learn more about them.

Gray, Purple

One of my favorite bloggers is someone who frequently cusses about mothering. This doesn't fit in with the tone of most unschooling blogs I read, about finding peace and meditating to deal with triggers and finding joy everyday with your kids. I love those things. But I also think cussing--and writing--about mothering is a lifesaver.... Continue Reading →

Great Joy, Great Sorrow

What I'm feeling could be described as just post-vacation blues. Or I could write a novel about family histories, poverty, capitalism, abuse, misogyny, white supremacy. Or I could tell the story of my kids and their small joys, challenges, victories, discoveries. Or the romance of my husband and I, moving between cities and states, searching... Continue Reading →

Brush fire

I am on fire But not the empowering kind Not the athletic kind Not the sprinter burning toward a finish line, hands ready to hold up the sky in victory. The kind where you stand outside a house beyond saving and watch it burn, just starting to feel the loss. I am on fire, but... Continue Reading →

Froodle, by Antoinette Portis

My daughter's autism diagnosis process involved piles of paperwork, doctor visits, and a visit to a central observation office where we did more paperwork and hours of observation. The day before that visit I was nervous. I had spent a year wondering and waffling, and I felt extremely anxious about labeling her, about how that... Continue Reading →

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