Institutions are structures and mechanisms of social order and cooperation governing the behavior of a set of individuals. Institutions are identified with a social purpose and permanence, transcending individual human lives and intentions, and with the making and enforcing of rules governing cooperative human behavior. The term, institution, is commonly applied to customs and behavior patterns important to a society, as well as to particular formal organizations of government and public service.
From Wikipedia. Emphasis mine.
I was inspired to give the concept of a social institution some consideration today by the thoughtful and articulate moms at our homeschooling group. We are very blessed to have such a diverse, compassionate group of families to turn to for support, encouragement and advice; even when I am disagreed with, I am always disagreed with respectfully and with interest to my opinion. I do not take this for granted and know that it’s rare and fine in society in general, let alone homeschooling circles. I digress, but it’s a good digression.
The subject at hand today was the idea of school as a social institution. Not individual schools and buildings but the institution of government-controlled public education made available equitably and universally for free. The concept of school, as it were, not just the physical existence of them. There is this idea that the government should decide what children will learn, and at what age, and where, and how, and by whom, and that’s the whole story. The vast majority of Americans believe this is the normative standard for learning and education; I beg to differ.
In this sense, I was institutionalized at the tender age of five. We sometimes call this “kindergarten.” Unlike the long laundry list of complaints about school that homeschoolers often trot out in criticizing the institution of traditional education, I did well in school. I was the ideal student; self-motivated, eager to please, curious about many subjects, an early reader, a strong visual-auditory learner, compliant and feeling a great deal of satisfaction in endless busywork. I always got good grades, not because my family wanted me to, but because I wanted to. I was socially successful and had many friends and didn’t experience bullying or peer pressure of any kind. I enjoyed the structure of traditional academics. In reality, I just liked learning things and this was the only outlet I had to do so. The curriculum I went through never satisfied my curiosity, so my coping response was to learn as much of what I was given as perfectly as I could. Quantity over quality. I willingly signed myself up for Advanced Placement courses in high school; I took the hardest classes I could find in college (and continually got straight As, or very close to them).
Here’s something that you rarely hear from a homeschooling mother: I liked school.
When I first heard about homeschooling, I was reading about religion in college, and came across a Christian mother’s forum where they were discussing homeschooling, and thought they were a bunch of fringe lunatics who were probably screwing up their kids for life. I was wholly ignorant and believed that the primary purpose of homeschooling was to indoctrinate children into the fanatical beliefs of their parents. The irony of this is not lost on me now. It would have never occurred to me as a high school or college student or very young mother to homeschool. I would have thought you were insane to suggest otherwise.
You see, I was institutionalized. Even after I had left college – which I loved so much I took six years to finish – I was still in the school mentality. Learning was something that happened in a very specific context: a specific building, with a specific dynamic between the person disseminating the information and the person studying it. I think of this now much like the aphorism of circus elephants, who do not run away to freedom even though they are allowed to walk around without shackles. It’s just that by that point, they’ve been in shackles for so long that they don’t need the actual shackles to be physically present to be controlled. Graduating from college and finding myself the single mom of a special needs preschooler was something like that. I thought – this is disastrous, because how will he do in school?
I can’t blame this on any particularities of the school environments into which I was placed. I went to good schools in good areas. I had many wonderful teachers throughout my entire academic career. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I had the approval and encouragement of the majority of my teachers – I was after all, the ideal student by nature – and so in a morass of bored children, I stood out and often developed strong rapports with many teachers over the year. These teachers, I know, were all wholly committed to facilitating the absolute best education they could for their students; they strove to connect with each one on an individual level, and I have no doubt each of these men and women did their level best to encourage and inspire creativity, individuality and critical thinking in each and every one of their students.
Instead, they institutionalized us.
It wasn’t on purpose. It works like this.
You are 7. You struggle in math, but your teacher is dry and boring and the day is beautiful and you would rather be outside climbing the monkey bars. You think learning your times tables seems like a profoundly pointless endeavor; the teacher has not attempted to disavow you of this notion in anyway, even as you are still made to do it. You cannot refuse; you are recorded as being a FAILURE if you do. Or -
You are an 11-year-old who loves to write. You have a warm, attentive English teacher with a gentle spirit and a heart for children, especially children who love to write. This teacher encourages your love of writing, beams at each new creation, reads your best work to the class with the understanding that your writing is superlative. You appreciate this recognition of your academic strength and you strive to continue to write well enough to sustain this pseudo-parental investment and praise. However, at the heart of this is anxiety – the next poem about your dog that you pen may not inspire the same kind of praise, and you, being a child left to fend for yourself in an institution, this is the closest thing to a mom you have for eight hours a day, and the primary undercurrent of your academic focus becomes teacher approval. When the teacher starts teaching you how to read a novel, or interpret literature, or write a good essay, you listen. You take it all in. It becomes a part of you, and governs your behavior and interaction with the written word possibly for the rest of your life. Or -
You are an articulate 16-year-old high school student. You have a history teacher that is charming, sincere, accessible, and teaches their subject in a clear, concise and interesting way. This teacher is clearly knowledgeable, and you find yourself thoroughly engaged. You ask questions because for the first time in your life, you are curious about history; the teacher is eager to engage you and any other student that wants to know more. The teacher has an informal style of teaching, and takes the students very seriously. The teacher’s worldview and interpretation of history is thusly swallowed wholesale as gospel because the teacher is an authentic authority figure to the student. Eventually, even if a student somehow manages to think outside the box and question the teacher, there is tremendous social, academic and emotional pressure to not make yourself vulnerable in that way and risk “looking like an idiot” – to your peers, or to a teacher you respect. You are institutionalized. Or -
You are a 19-year-old college kid on your own for the first time, taking a class about your favorite subject. Your teacher is affable and passionate about the same subject you are, so there is an instant shared connection. You are allowed in class to follow your imagination’s rabbit trail for the first time in your life about this subject. You have long, heated discussions in which you are given specific resources to read, and are expected to absorb and regurgitate them in a satisfactorily measurable manner and it is called “open debate” when in reality it is the slow adoption of the confines of the syllabus; this does not bother you, because you love this subject and you love and appreciate this teacher and you don’t know how else to go about learning this. One day, the teacher mentions in passing that he is a socialist. You think: I like this man, and he knows more than me, and he is right about a great many things; maybe he is right about socialism, too… And when you try that on for size and find that it suits you, it becomes a slippery slope. As in: maybe when he calls Christianity “just another religion myth,” that’s the language I will use to describe it, too… etc.
While each and every one of these things happened to me, the real point is that regardless of how well-intentioned, teachers are perpetuators of the institution of public education. It can’t be any other way. The institution of school is anathema to creativity, individualism and critical thinking by its very design. It’s not meant to produce a society of individualistic free-thinkers; it’s meant to produce a sea of obedient, compliant citizens for a government. If you don’t believe me, see for yourself. Read the documents that drafted public education as a national institution into being – these people were quite explicit in their aims, and let me tell you, their aims were not to create a society of free-thinking free spirit intellectuals.
But Andrea, a rebuttal might say, isn’t that going to happen no matter where a child learns? Even in homeschooling, a child might learn or do something to please his or her parent. A parent will indoctrinate their child with their value system. What is the difference?
To which I will say: that’s an institutionalized socialist response, coming from the perspective that there is no qualitative difference between a stranger/child relationship and a parent/child relationship. To the academically institutionalized, they are not just easily interchangeable, but a stranger/ child relationship might actually be superior for the fostering of academic growth. The majority of people, if asked, will agree that teachers are more qualified to teach a child than his or her parent.
The problem is that this is completely blind to the reality of the parent/ child dynamic, and that is – yes, it is possible that my kid learned his times table to please me, and I sometimes function as his “teacher,” but that is not the whole of our relationship. We are also: traveling companions, reality television devotees, mutual computer geeks, fellow gardeners, and people who curl up and watch youtubes of music we enjoy, or read a book that has caught both our interests. We are mother and son. The academic piece of our relationship is a tiny fraction of a dynamic that is based on something no teacher can ever have for his or her student, no matter how well-regarded: unconditional parental love and intense interpersonal investment. This is the space in which homeschooling occurs. If my kid doesn’t learn all the times tables fast enough for my liking, I might gripe, or nag, or require him to revise the material… but then we go bake cookies and go visit a park and drop off stuff at the post office and…
By contrast., the academic piece is the entirety of the teacher-student relationship in an institutional school. Should the student not memorize the times tables to the satisfaction of any given math teacher’s standards – that’s it. That’s the bottom line. The kid gets a big fat F, and the teacher is not so happy with him, and that is the end of the story. My son has never had this experience, and so he views each new piece of academia with which I present him as something that is potentially worthwhile – but on which it’s not contingent for him to be socially successful with me. If he fails or even declines to learn it, I’ll still love him. I’ll still be there. He will not have jeopardized his emotional or intellectual security by thinking for himself, at his own pace.
It is in this context that my child learns in our homeschool. While homeschooling is not a de facto guarantor of critical thinking, academic excellence, creativity and individualism, it is a context in which they all occur far more organically than in school.
My child is free to learn, live, think and create, as best as I’m able to grant him. My child is not institutionalized.
My child is home.