Where do we get our education from now?

Image via: Pixabay

My first born is about to start school and the twins soon after. The last five years feel like they have passed quickly and I hope that I've prepared them. I try my best to be a very aware person and to pass that awareness on to my kids. Kids don't learn too much from what you tell them, I've realised. They learn from the activities they experience and what they observe. Then, when they get out into the world they make up their own minds. My main aim is to make sure we have an open and nurturing relationship so that we can keep growing together. I want them to see me as a safe place. Somewhere they can offload all their worries and fears, their sadness and their rage, without apprehension that they will be judged, disbelieved, or that their feelings will be minimised and denied. I have made it a point to behave in that manner with them. I don't hide my feelings from them and I explain my behaviour. I don't try to protect them from the harshness of reality. They know that I get sick, I get sad, I get angry and I get fed up. They also know that these feelings are the necessary flip side to living a happy, exciting, curious and empathetic existence filled with love. Without darkness, there is no awareness of light.

I finished school a millennium ago. Ok, not that long, but high school graduation happened in 1992 and I only spent 3 years at Uni to get an Arts degree, then immediately started full-time work. My education only accelerated once formal education ended. In many ways, institutionalised learning only stifled me and taught me the stuff I didn't need. The stuff decided by bureaucrats of the dominant paradigm, and while there were probably female individuals who were from non-white backgrounds and with gender fluidity, the system itself was male, straight and white. It still is. So I'm prepared. I know that the kids are going to get the basic, systemic curriculum - reading, writing, maths, art, "history" - the blanks will need to be filled in.

I think about how I filled in my blanks. When I reflect on my education, I realise that it wasn't the place where I got most of my answers. It started there, certainly, but I guess that's the point of a formal education, to put you on a path towards learning and give you the practical tools to obtain knowledge. I read books, listened to music, talked to my friends and observed others. I got out into the world, through work and socialisation and talked to people. I watched movies and television and listened to the radio. As I got older, I ventured further afield and traveled, short distances at first, then broader. I looked for the commonalities between people from different places and tried to make sense of the differences. I questioned everything and the more uncomfortable it made others, the more resistance I got, the more it felt like I was on the right track. Not much has changed and I believe this is going to be the pattern for the rest of my life. I'm an eternal student. I think they make the best teachers.

Kids have so many other avenues for learning these days. They still have all the things I experienced, but information is now so freely available and accessible, it seems they have the sum of all of humanity's experience and thought at their finger tips. They can ask just about anything and they will get an answer. The quality of answers will vary, and it will be up to them to critically discern what is real and what isn't, so they too can fill in the blanks.

The fact is that traditional means of education have diminished in quality. We have an outstanding education system in this country - for some, not for all. On paper, our curriculum is adequate, but there are still huge discrepancies when it comes to who can access it, who it represents and who it benefits. There are massive gaps in funding, resources and culture between private and public education, many private schools are marred by the bleeding in of religious dogma and the execution of the curriculum is reliant on the luck of getting a good teacher, dedicated people who are still largely underpaid, undervalued and sometimes ill prepared. Systems are only as good as the people practicing them and if those systems are unjust and unequal, the content is going to suffer. We need diversity and we need open access. We need to redefine what education means and what its purpose is. We need to remind ourselves that education is a life long process that begins at birth and ends on our death bed. As such we need to consider how we as a society, share the load of raising and educating children. We need to stop compartmentalising education into separate categories of parenting, pre-school/childcare, primary, high school, tertiary and vocational study into an all encompassing way in which we nurture and inform each other at every stage of our lives.

At the moment, the bulk of early education falls on women. Whether they stay home in the early months and years of their children's lives, giving up their own education and employment to nurture their children, or return to work and lean on others, it is usually other women they end up leaning on. Early childhood educators are for the most part, women, and like teaching, it is an underpaid, undervalued, over worked and expensive to access profession. I didn't want to give up work when I had kids, but I didn't want to leave them for at least the first two years either. I couldn't afford the full-time daycare even if I did have a high-powered corporate career to maintain, which I didn't and never wanted. However, at the same time, the thought of leaving an 18 month old and 2 newborns with other carers was unfathomable and largely unavailable. I needed time. Not only to feel like I had educated them in the basics of existing: feeding, walking, toileting, hygiene, talking; I also wanted to witness those milestones and to be honest, there really wasn't anyone else to lean on, who wasn't already too burdened by their own life to help me. It is unfair to expect grandparents to raise your children, they've already raised their own. It's not realistic to burden other mothers who have their own children to raise and it's not an option to interrupt someone else's life with your kids, unless you're paying them. I wanted to pass on the knowledge that I had inherited myself, and to make sure it was prospering in a healthy way. We undervalue this practical education in how to exist in the world that we call mothering, instead fetishising it, only to degrade it when it suits. It is unpaid work or lowly paid when outsourced and we don't address its importance. When I say we, I mean the capitalist, patriarchal society that tells us it is women's work to care for young children. If this weren't true, men would be doing more, and I don't mean the basics of day to day tasks or even one-on-one care occasionally. I mean the mountain of mental and emotional labour that considers every aspect of a child's mental, emotional and physical well-being. If they did, workplaces would be assuming that when anyone becomes a parent, whether they carry the fetus or not, they would need quality time with their offspring to raise them. We would have free, quality and accessible child care, with educated and qualified workers who were paid exceptionally well. We would have flexible working hours and accommodating workplaces that valued productivity over time with 'bums on seats' and we would be seeing the education of children from day dot as a whole society's responsibility. As it is now, the education of children is struggled through as secondary to what is most important in our society; holding up the economy. In the long run, the current cultural system is its biggest burden.

So what else educates us? Our mass media, news outlets, television and newspapers are beyond a joke. Owned and controlled by a conservative and self-interested minority, the only real option to maintain your brain cells is to flick the off switch and use the paper to line your compost bin. 

Movies and music are a little more diverse and the Arts are always the place to find the truth of the human experience and lessons about how we navigate our existence. While mainstream crap is still shaped and manipulated by the zeitgeist, which is broken right now, there are always alternatives to be found. Visual arts, music, language, prose, poetry, story telling, creativity, the reflection of our beauty and pain is unbound and indomitable. And it is everywhere we look outside and in. When the Arts are not funded and valued properly, when there is an attempt to control, censor and stifle the Arts, that's when you know a society is sick and broken.

So, I'm trying to see this next step in my kids' journey as simply a change of scenery. Their eyes are going to be opened to new experiences and people and I wish for them to have the tools to navigate their external world in harmonious unison with how they navigate their internal world. That is the one that is most important. How they think and feel, what they want, what makes them happy and what makes them feel safe, valued and understood. I want them to know that no matter what they are doing, who they are with, what they see and hear, they are ok inside themselves and have a safe harbour to re-calibrate at home.

Mostly, I want them to know that learning is ongoing and in their hands. I want them to be curious, interested, excited and motivated about finding out new things. Even if that new information changes their mind and rebuilds them. As difficult as that transformation is to make sometimes, the way new knowledge can force us to crumble into confusion, throw us into a dark tunnel and see us stumbling aimlessly for a while, I want them to know that even in the shadows, they don't have to immediately see. They can feel around, trust and wait for the light that comes at the end, illuminating their path toward bigger adventures and opportunities and the absolute best version of themselves they can possibly discover.

This is how I wrote my book

I can't begin to explain how excited I am to hold this wad of paper in my hands, finally. Writing a novel has been a life goal of mine for a very long time. When I was a kid, when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said 'Author'. Not writer. Author. I wanted to write novels. To tell stories. That is, after I discovered that being a Vet wasn't just about cuddling animals, but touching poo and vomit (much like parenting), healing injured ones and putting some of them to sleep. 

I started writing this book ten years ago. I was in my early 30s. I had just skidded out of my 20s, bruised and battered by failed relationships, disappointment and instability. I'd been bouncing from one job and rental property to another for the best part of a decade and had finally settled down in a flat for a couple of years straight, and a job that looked like it could be a long term thing. I went overseas on my own, doing a Contiki through Europe on the cusp of my 31st birthday, when the tour guide himself was still negotiating his 20s. I came back determined to be a grown up.

In the meantime, my now husband had returned to Australia from a year long working holiday in the Canadian Alps and our paths crossed shortly after. My lease was up and my brother needed a flat mate, so I moved in with him the weekend after we met.

So, I finally found myself adulting. Living in stable accommodation, holding down a secure job and in a serious relationship. It was time to write. Then, I began this story. About a young woman, much like myself, who was living with her brother and working as a public servant. I had some ideas in mind about what I wanted her to experience. In some way, to tell my own story and reveal the themes that had guided my life to that point. I didn't have a set plan, just a bunch of thoughts and ideas and the desire to write.

I did that. On a regular basis. I would fish out my cheap laptop, turn it on, punch away at the keys, and develop a story. In fact, it was the characters I was creating. The people in my story who would come to life in my mind and embark on their own journey, sometimes seemingly separate from me.

But as is the case with being a grown up, life gets busy. My partner and I went overseas, feeling the urge to travel together before we settled down. We came home and bought our first property and got hitched. Then we started a family. Things literally snowballed. A year into our marriage we had our first child and then ten months later we conceived twins. To say things got a tad chaotic is an understatement. I suddenly found myself at home, unemployed and looking after three children under the age of two.

A short time before I gave birth to my first baby, I found out about 'Push Presents'. Apparently, people buy or are given a material incentive for giving birth. I'd never heard of this, but wanted to cash in. Side note here, I never pushed. I had two cesareans. But that's beside the point. Instead of wanting jewellery or a fleeting massage or some other pointless commodity, I told my husband that I wanted a writing class. 

Image via: catherinedeveny.com

Catherine Deveny was running her first Gunnas Writing Masterclass in Sydney for the Sydney Writers' Festival and I wanted in. Heavily pregnant, I waddled into the city and sat through a day of 'aha!' moments among my kind of people. It was the fuel I needed to resolve to finishing my book. The perfect opportunity was about to present itself, in the form of a longer than expected maternity leave. I would put the nine-to-five grind of working a day job behind me for a while, in fact much longer than I'd expected, and this gave me the time I needed to focus on finishing the book. I started to see myself as a novelist and when I found out about self publishing, it only propelled me even further forward. I realised I wouldn't have to send out a manuscript to a whole bunch of publishers and then have to sit on my hands and wait for someone to 'get me'. I could make a book myself. I would have complete control over every aspect of its design and construction and I would be able to create my own deadlines and basically own and oversee every step of the process. It was completely irresistible.

In the weeks before I had the baby, I started this blog. I found an online site that would pay me for writing articles called Lifehack.org and I pushed myself to finish my book. I made writing my full time job. Albeit mostly unpaid, but whatever. I had savings and a financially supportive partner and was in fact working harder than I'd ever worked in my life. I knew that eventually I would return to paid employment once the kids were in care and that this short time was a drop in the ocean in my working life. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I had to at least try. I'd kick myself if I didn't at least do that. 

As busy as it is having a newborn, I found the time. When the baby napped or was settled, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. It kept me sane during the days I felt isolated and motivated me when I was exhausted. When the twins came, everything was magnified again, but I did another Gunnas Masterclass - Self Publishing with Julie Postance and a further writing one with Catherine, and I became even more determined to finish what had become a project, beyond merely writing a book. In fact, the story and characters had grown so much in me, that I envisaged a second and third book and a business plan started to take shape.

While wrangling three toddlers, I pushed on with not only writing the stories, but conceiving the cover, registering a business and getting a logo designed, starting a Facebook page and website; editing, proofreading, typesetting and building the architecture of a book. It was daunting and I was riddled with doubts and insecurity, but those niggles weren't strong enough to defeat the joy and the satisfaction I got from doing it. I grew attached to the narrative, the fictional people, their lives and relationships, and the process of making a book. I worked in small increments of time, whenever I had a moment to myself or the kids were occupied with themselves. Even five minutes of writing or organising fulfilled me and gave me pleasure.

Before too long the book was finished and while it was being proofread and edited, I busied myself with the business side of things and commenced the sequel. The second book has been much easier to write in some ways. I have experience and a premise. The sequel's protagonist is a character from the first book, it reveals her back story, and the stories intersect. In other ways, different challenges have presented themselves as I can't just let the characters lead me into the story, I have to adhere to the established narrative and characterisation. In so many ways, these obstacles have made me a better and more creative writer. 

The editing process of the first book educated me about the pitfalls of writing, such as style, grammar and punctuation and I think, I hope, that I have improved. The third book is swimming around in my mind. The business end is established and I believe that it won't take me as long or be as arduous a process, in terms of creating a physical book and making it available for purchase.

All in all, I decided one day, that I was going to write a book and when I took that first step, and kept putting one foot in front of the other, eventually I got there. And looking back, it's been a huge and very satisfying learning curve.

The hardest part now, and I think what has been the most difficult all along, is sharing it. You want people to like what you do. Especially if it's an artistic pursuit. You want people to connect and to feel the things you felt when you created it. It's not about being liked or feeling good all the time or getting approval. It's about connection and you want people to have a positive and constructive response. So, for example, even if people don't like something a character says or does, you hope that it is within the context of empathising with them. The fact of the matter is that some people will like your work and others will hate it. Some will be completely indifferent. I am prepared for that. What I wish for most is that the story and the characters are interesting, believable and at least a little bit entertaining. 

More than anything though, I wrote this book because I liked writing it. I am writing the next two because I want to finish telling this story. I will keep writing because that is the one thing I do that makes me want to punch the air in jubilation. I am so lucky to say I have found that thing that makes me go 'fuck yes!'. It is something that everyone should find in their lives.

Space: Everybody Shut Up, I'm Trying To Think will be available for purchase through my website and Facebook page from February 14th 2017.

Why Books are Magic, Especially for Children

When I was a child, my nickname was Booka Book. I repeated the phrase over and over again: "Booka booka booka booka", whenever I wanted a book. My parents gave me books, they let me flip through the pages and absorb them, they read to me. Golden books and Lady Bird books were favourites and I still have many of them, that I have now passed on to my children. 

My kids are at the age, (my eldest is three and a half and the twins are almost two), that they are finally appreciating books. They no longer squirm and lose interest and become distracted when I try to read to them. They will sit together immersed in a pile of books, alone with the pages and the stories inside. Sometimes swapping between themselves, the eldest 'reads' to the siblings, reciting from memory what happens on each page. Sometimes word for word from those stories that rhyme or making up sentences as the pictures come to life in the mind. The twins are transfixed when they listen and jibber away in their own baby language, when they have a book to themselves. 

We have finally nailed down the bedtime story ritual. Whatever happens with books during the day, at bedtime we choose one or two books, sometimes three if it's early, and I sit on their bedroom floor and read to them. For the most part, they listen and join in. They know the last words of a familiar rhyming sentence and we say it together:

"...and his favourite food is roasted....?"
"FOX"

That's from The Gruffalo. It's a favourite in our house. So is The Gruffalo's Child, Room on the Broom, The Paper Dolls, in fact anything written by the incredible Julia Donaldson. 

Another staple in our house is anything by the incomparable Lynley Dodd. Hairy Maclary and his friends visit our place often and they are as familiar as family members.

These days, our children are so lucky. Not only do they get to delve deep into their own imaginations through the magic of these stories, the books come to life in animated reality. Some of their most beloved tales have been made into cartoons that not only bring the pictures and words from the pages to life, they fill the gaps in the stories, highlighting the nuances that can be easily overlooked. Like in Room on the Broom. The dragon flies low and menacingly over a bog filled with a large toad and her babies. As he passes, they fart bubbles into the mud. That isn't in the book!

As fantastic as technology is, and it is, despite how much whining and criticism we hear about how everyone's face is stuck in a screen these days. So what! They once said novels would destroy young people's souls too. As fantastic as technology is, it still doesn't compare to flipping the paper pages of a colourful book. Children slow down. They go places while sitting still. They do it alone and independently and they grow as a result.

Solitude, self sufficiency, a quiet space to let the cogs of your brain turn and link up happens in a special way when you hold that bundle of paper and absorb it, letting it seep into your psyche and do what it needs to without distraction. Because that, to me, is the biggest difference between reading anything on the internet and reading a book. It's the volume of messages and pathways reaching out for your attention all at the same time when you're on an electronic device that makes your brain and your being travel too fast sometimes. That's not always a bad thing. It teaches you to be discerning and efficient. With practice you learn to skim and only take in the stuff that you need, the important information you require and discard the junk. But it's only when you're focused and expert at skimming that this works. Other times all sorts of junk falls through the cracks and derails your thinking. Again, not necessarily a bad thing. Who knows what you might learn by mistake!

A book, on the other hand, well it's a kinder journey. It's a cruise not a speed boat and sometimes the adrenaline flood is best put aside.