Unschooling is a form of homeschooling. It is an educational philosophy. Homeschoolers are diverse as are their educational methods, not unlike schools. Unschooling is not about letting your children do “whatever” in a careless, neglectful manner. It is about non-coercion. Obviously, Ms. Kasparian at age 10 preferred television over reading a book — she wasn’t unschooled. And yes, Ms. Kasparian if an unschooled teen decides she truly wants to go to college, she will acquire the knowledge she needs to do it.

Watch the video and judge for yourself, “Unschooling vs. Homeschooling vs. Formal Education”.

There were several reasons why I thought Valerie shouldn’t attempt homeschooling. First there was the exhaustion factor. And then the fact that Valerie knew nothing about teaching. And the fact that professional teachers presumably did. Valerie didn’t like what the Philadelphia Public School System was doing with her daughter. Too much rote and not enough inspiration. Too much tedium and not enough excitement about learning. And so it started – Hannah’s education.

Telltale signs that this was happening started appearing everywhere in the house, like mushrooms after a downpour. Big maps of the United States and then the world on the living room wall. Colorful little tables with colorful little chairs on which to paint and write. Block letters of the alphabet on all sorts of surfaces.

I thought Valerie would abandon this craziness after a few months or a year at most. She didn’t. Zachary, our grandson, three years younger than Hannah, passed the admission test and was enrolled in the Valerie Drake Altman Home School. Payton was still a baby but I knew her fate was also sealed. Slowly my fears dissipated. The kids seemed to be thriving.

Homeschoolers in Philadelphia were a vibrant community of gifted people. Mothers and fathers who had experience in different undertakings contributed their experience as adjunct professors in the VDAHS. The whole city became their classroom– the Philadelphia Museum, the Academy of Natural Sciences, all sorts of craft places and theater groups. Whenever Valerie gave a party, the house was filled with parents from all walks of life with their children, socializing just fine even without having learned this in the structured environment of a formal school.

The nagging concern of how Valerie would deal with the more difficult subjects taught in high school remained. She had never taught a foreign language, science or high-school-level math.The challenge grew when the family moved to Florida because Valerie had to start up all over again with a new homeschool system. She quickly got involved and soon the kids were working with on-line teachers and not only doing high school work but some college courses as well. I’m sure I might be a little prejudiced as a proud grandfather but I think the three grandchildren are more at ease with adults and more creative in dealing with challenges than children who attend traditional schools.

Hannah has done volunteer work for the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia and the Florida Aquarium. Zachary has won a bunch of tennis and other sporting prizes. And Payton is as quietly self-assured as her mother is headstrong. So all my fears were unrealized and now I rest easily. Or almost easily. I am bracing for the day when Valerie invites us down to Florida and announces, very calmly: “Daddy, I’m going to teach Hannah to become a heart surgeon.” There’s no telling what she has planned for Payton and Zachary.

There are many different ways to homeschool. Homeschoolers seek out resources to meet the learning needs and styles of a child. They may be … structured (conducting a traditional school program at home using formal education) or eclectic (mixing of traditional and unschooling methods for education) or unschoolers (following child-led interests without the use of formal curriculum or coercion).

Start by thinking about what defines an education. Educate yourself by reading about homeschooling, talking to homeschoolers, seeking out support groups, finding what is already available in your community, understanding your state’s home education laws.

Decide how to implement a home education program and then you tailor it to your child. If you can’t teach your child about a particular subject, find someone who can or use the Internet or a cyberschool or buy curriculum or enroll in classes at area museums or institutes, or homeschool co-ops, or go to the library, watch videos and dvds, read books, utilize opportunities at area parks, community colleges, and so on.

You must be committed to finding a way to educate your child. Homeschoolers use any venue possible deemed appropriate to further a child’s education. Creativity, imagination and perserverance are homeschooling characteristics. It’s your choice.

That’s what homeschooling is – a choice to raise and educate your child in the way that you as a parent believe is best.

I made sure laundry was done yesterday so she would have her complete wardrobe from which to make a selection for today. I remember. I remember how important it was to wear the right clothes. I remember how judging peers could be and still are. Today is an important day for her on many levels and I want to provide her with as much support as possible, including clean laundry. She seems surprisingly calm after her shower and only dresses once instead of the usual three or so times. I imagine the thoughts turning around her mind. I give her a big hug. Our embrace is that shared mother-daughter moment that makes all the world filled with peace and beauty.

Not much else for me to do now but shower and throw on a skirt, shirt and shoes. I remind her to eat breakfast though doubt she will. Her stomach is probably a bundle of nerves. A last minute brushing of teeth and we are ready. I ask if she has her calculator, #2 pencils and the home school identification code needed for testing. One quick check on my other slumbering kids. All is well. It’s time to go to school.

The sun is surfing the horizon. We arrive at our local high school 15 minutes early, in time to slip into a visitor”s parking spot. School buses discharge their charges, parents drive through the drop-off circle, students stake out turf for talking. We walk up to the guidance counselor”s office. The door is locked leaving us to spend the next 10 minutes standing around and trying not to stare. The setting is vibrant and varied. I glance at Hannah and see how young and beautiful she is. I wonder how much she is missing.

We chat about this and that and speculate at what time the office will open, what time classes start. I observe the cafeteria is serving food and remark she might want to find something to eat. She emphatically declines. I realize this is probably a bit scary, this might be an intimidating environment for her. I comment perhaps she might like to try high school. We both know her present courseload is too heavy to add school to today. Silence sets in.

An adult approaches and inquires if we are waiting for someone. I explain my daughter is here to take the PSAT and she is homeschooled. She smiles and suggests we wait in the office until the guidance counselor arrives. We sit for only a moment, not long enough to reflect on the fact that Hannah has not taken a standardized test in ten years. A warm and welcoming woman greets us and Hannah rises to meet her. I look at my radiant child, hopeful that she is confident. I try to telepathically will her to relax. I know she feels pressure, perhaps I’ve set her standards too high. The counselor signals it is time for Hannah to join the 11th graders and dismisses me with, “You’re done now, Mom.”

It’s test time. I hurriedly instruct Hannah to call me on her cell when she’s ready to be picked up. I watch my daughter follow the leader. She’s out of earshot before I can say goodbye or wish her luck. So smoothly she slides into the role of a high school student. I ponder whether she would benefit from the high school experience.

I walk through the bustling hallway, out the front entrance, and head to my car and pass clutches of student cliques. I am pleased with the events of the early morning. I entertain several plausible scenarios, taking into consideration determining factors like this is her junior year, her GPA, college admission requirements, and how the school might handle her entrance at mid-year, to accommodate Hannah’s unspoken desire for first hand knowledge of brick and mortar high school life. These are the thoughts my mind is occupied by when a scene out of bad movie interrupts.

“He has a knife,” alerts a voice.

“No, he doesn’t,” responds another.

Shock sets in. I do not sense panic. I hear jesting. I am not close enough to accurately overhear the remaining conversations. I am ten feet away from my car, turn around, and scout out the source of the squeals – a group of five to six teens, boys and girls. I think. Is this serious? Should I say something? Columbine. It’s a knife, not a gun. It may be teenage bravado.

I am out of my element here. This is only the second time I have been in a high school building in the past, oooh, almost thirty years. (The first was a month ago when I registered my daughter for the PSAT.) These kids could not begin to fathom the irony of their words at this precise moment. I decide to do nothing. I take one more look as I open the car door and reflect. I’ve left my daughter in a building where a kid has, maybe kids have, knives or other violent instruments. I reassure myself she is safe to assuage my guilt. She’s not outside. She’s with an adult in a room filled with other kids undergoing testing. Nothing will happen. This is just one of life’s bad jokes.

I wait for her phone call. It should come anytime now. I am anxious to hear about her experience this morning. I also need to know that I am not a bad parent and she is safe and sound. I decide that I will say something when I pick her up. I want to observe how school officials receive this piece of information. Is the school desensitized to violence? Will shock and concern be expressed? Maybe this isn”t an environment my daughter needs to be a part of.

The phone rings. I hear her voice. Let me go pick her up. I’m glad we homeschool!