Rules and Regulations
Yesterday we went on an outing to a museum with some home educating friends. We were a large group of four adults and ten children. We had a lovely day. At lunch time we went to the tearoom at the museum. There were a number of small tables, all occupied. My friend saw a large table, folded up and leaning against the side of the wall. There was plenty of space, and so we set this table up and we were able to sit around it. We bought coffee for ourselves and chips for the children, and these were served to us, at our table, without comment. All was well. However, after a short time, a member of staff came out from behind the counter and said that we would have to move, as our table was blocking the way and would therefore make access to the counter difficult for a disabled person. I responded with the comment that there weren’t any disabled people in the room at that time, and that of course we would assist any that did happen to come. No, this would not do, we had to move. I said that I thought this was a bit ridiculous. Whereupon I was told that there were blind people visiting the museum that day, and they would not be able to see our table and would walk into it. By now I was feeling decidedly irritable, and so I sarcastically said: “...and rules are rules”. “Yes, exactly!”, she responded, at which point I decided to drop the matter. No point in ruining our happy time together. We duly moved away from our large table and clustered in two groups around the two tiny tables available. They were at opposite ends of the room, and the result was that it became harder for us to enjoy our shared food, and it also became much more difficult to keep track of what our children were doing. We ended up with excited children moving backwards and forwards between our two tables, and potentially presenting far more of a hazard for a disabled person than our original arrangement.
I spent quite a bit of time thinking about this situation afterwards, because I realized that it well expressed the essential conflict between an unschooling educational approach, and an educational approach typically evident in schools. Schools begin with rules and regulations. They have to, because they are about managing, protecting, and controlling large groups of people, and getting them to move in the desired direction. The rules are inflexible and there are consequences for failing to abide by them.
This is also true in a family, in fact, it is true in any group of people. However, in smaller, more relational groups, it is possible to assess the impact and workability of a rule, and change it if necessary. In the home, the parents are the final authority, and thus they can adapt and change and reject rules to fit the needs of the group that they manage. They are able to receive and consider input from the members of the group—their children. And they also have a strong and vested interest in the well-being, functionality and efficiency of their group—the family– and so their love and commitment predisposes to the adaptation, adjustment and even rejection of particular rules. Say, for instance, that the parent decided that a particular child should be responsible for the setting of the table for breakfast at 8 o’clock. Over a period of time, the parent notes that this task is extremely difficult for that child to do within the specified time, because she also takes the dog for a walk every morning. The parent can then decide what to do. Either the dog walking task can be given to another member of the family, or the table setting task can be given to another member of the family, or the parent can decide to spend time assisting the child in learning how to manage her time in such a way that she can complete both tasks within the required time, or the breakfast time can be changed to suit the child’s capabilities and timetable. The parent could even decide that there will be no formal breakfast time! This is a simple example, but it clearly illustrates the flexibility of the use of rules in the context of the family.
Now think in the context of education. British law simply states that the education must suit the age, aptitude and ability of the child. This leaves a lot of room for flexibility and sensitive application of learning goals and targets. But the National Curriculum prescribes a whole lot of tasks, goals and outcomes for learners and teachers who use it. And few schools have the liberty—or the audacity— to ignore the National Curriculum.
Sadly, rules have often been determined by people who are not in the particular context in which the rule is being applied, and in many cases, have never been in the particular context in which the rule is being applied. This is a great concern, as the people in the group have no real freedom to evaluate the effectiveness or workability of the rule, or even to give feedback about it —they are just there to implement or obey it.
In the particular situation I mentioned, namely our use of a larger table in the tearoom, the staff member did not feel at liberty to evaluate the situation and make her own decision. The rule says that access must be kept clear for disabled people. But at that particular time, there was no real need to apply the rule, because there were no disabled people in the room. There was a large group of people, adults and children, who had purchased food and wanted to enjoy it.
She probably didn’t realize it, or intend it, but the effect of her blind application of the rule was highly insulting to me as a thinking and community-orientated human being. It expressed an opinion about us, namely that we did not care about the needs of other people. The rule had to be applied in order to protect the interests of people who were not even present, because she made the assumption that we would not be sensitive to the needs of such a person if they did happen to enter the room. And in so doing, she became highly inconsiderate of the needs of people—clients—who actually were in the room at the time. (Incidentally, during the whole time we were at the museum, and we were there for most of the day, we did not see one disabled person.)
Now, I have a good friend who is disabled, and I am aware of the huge mobility problems she experiences, and also of how much the development of rules and procedures to assist mobility for disabled people have helped her. I am not for a second saying that there should not be principles and procedures to ensure that their needs are met. I also understand that rules become necessary when people lose touch with their sense of community, for it is that sense that predisposes one to sensitivity and awareness of the needs of others.
However, I feel that the rigid use of the rule, without judgement and due consideration, becomes a cyclical problem, ultimately predisposing to the very thing that one is attempting to avoid, namely a disconnectedness from the people around us, and the desensitization in society of our common humanity.
What does this have to do with education? A lot! The national curriculum becomes a rulebook if one is not careful. A child must learn to read at age four, because that is the intended outcome of the application of the national curriculum for four year olds. Ok. But what about the children who do not learn to read when they are four—or five, or six, or even ten? Now, because we have a rule, and they are not conforming to it, their uniqueness becomes a ‘problem’ Why? Because they do not follow the rules. There is no room for flexibility and sensitivity, and so, in addition to the knowledge that they are different to many other children, the child must also cope with that vague and unjust sense that they have failed, and even worse, are in the wrong - or that there is something wrong with them.
In the tearoom situation, there was a rule and a code of conduct prescribed, which, if applied, would make access easier for disabled people. Wonderful. This was a good idea, nothing wrong, in principle, with the rule. But, and this is a big but, there were no disabled people in the room at the time for whose sake the rule needed to be applied. I would have preferred a sensible, thinking approach in which the staff noted what had happened, and decided (1) to keep an eye open for any disabled people arriving in order to assist them, (2) gave us the benefit of the doubt, that we ourselves would not be inconsiderate of the needs of any disabled people that came, and (3) treated our needs with sensitivity too. If they had done this, the effect would have been that we, also their clients, would have had our needs considered, and they would have been able to meet the objective of assisting any disabled people—which was indeed the intention behind the rule.
Why did they not take this approach? Simply, because there was a rule. When there is a rule, one no longer needs to use one’s own judgement and intelligence. And that is why my sarcastic comment ‘rules are rules’ was taken in all seriousness by the staff member as the justification for her approach to the problem. Of course, added to this, there was probably the added complication of the fear of the consequence of not following the rules, because the rule was not developed by her in the first place, but came from someone ‘up there’!
Likewise, a child who learns differently must be made to conform, because there is a rule. Application of the national curriculum becomes a rule. A rule for learning targets set by someone who has never met the particular child, and knows nothing at all about them, their dreams, aspirations, desires, needs or struggles. And to make things worse, the poor teacher, the only one even vaguely aware of the real state of being of the child, doesn’t have any real freedom to adjust or modify the rule because of the pressure of OFSTED inspections.
We who home educate have brought our children home so that they can be free of that relentless pressure to conform. Our children are now subject to our rules. We had better take due care that we are not doing the same rigid and unthinking thing to our children in a different context. Why do parents become rigid? It is always related to fear of the consequences of not doing so. Fear of outside pressures and opinions and standards. It has nothing at all to do with the reality of the child in front of us. And the sooner we realize this, the better.
In the home, ‘rules are rules’ is just not true. Children are under their parents authority, and obedience is their mandate. As parents though, we had better make very, very sure that we are not unreasonable in our demands, placing heavy burdens on young shoulders in the name of discipline and training. Family rules should constantly be evaluated and adapted to fit the needs of the people using them.
I spent quite a bit of time thinking about this situation afterwards, because I realized that it well expressed the essential conflict between an unschooling educational approach, and an educational approach typically evident in schools. Schools begin with rules and regulations. They have to, because they are about managing, protecting, and controlling large groups of people, and getting them to move in the desired direction. The rules are inflexible and there are consequences for failing to abide by them.
This is also true in a family, in fact, it is true in any group of people. However, in smaller, more relational groups, it is possible to assess the impact and workability of a rule, and change it if necessary. In the home, the parents are the final authority, and thus they can adapt and change and reject rules to fit the needs of the group that they manage. They are able to receive and consider input from the members of the group—their children. And they also have a strong and vested interest in the well-being, functionality and efficiency of their group—the family– and so their love and commitment predisposes to the adaptation, adjustment and even rejection of particular rules. Say, for instance, that the parent decided that a particular child should be responsible for the setting of the table for breakfast at 8 o’clock. Over a period of time, the parent notes that this task is extremely difficult for that child to do within the specified time, because she also takes the dog for a walk every morning. The parent can then decide what to do. Either the dog walking task can be given to another member of the family, or the table setting task can be given to another member of the family, or the parent can decide to spend time assisting the child in learning how to manage her time in such a way that she can complete both tasks within the required time, or the breakfast time can be changed to suit the child’s capabilities and timetable. The parent could even decide that there will be no formal breakfast time! This is a simple example, but it clearly illustrates the flexibility of the use of rules in the context of the family.
Now think in the context of education. British law simply states that the education must suit the age, aptitude and ability of the child. This leaves a lot of room for flexibility and sensitive application of learning goals and targets. But the National Curriculum prescribes a whole lot of tasks, goals and outcomes for learners and teachers who use it. And few schools have the liberty—or the audacity— to ignore the National Curriculum.
Sadly, rules have often been determined by people who are not in the particular context in which the rule is being applied, and in many cases, have never been in the particular context in which the rule is being applied. This is a great concern, as the people in the group have no real freedom to evaluate the effectiveness or workability of the rule, or even to give feedback about it —they are just there to implement or obey it.
In the particular situation I mentioned, namely our use of a larger table in the tearoom, the staff member did not feel at liberty to evaluate the situation and make her own decision. The rule says that access must be kept clear for disabled people. But at that particular time, there was no real need to apply the rule, because there were no disabled people in the room. There was a large group of people, adults and children, who had purchased food and wanted to enjoy it.
She probably didn’t realize it, or intend it, but the effect of her blind application of the rule was highly insulting to me as a thinking and community-orientated human being. It expressed an opinion about us, namely that we did not care about the needs of other people. The rule had to be applied in order to protect the interests of people who were not even present, because she made the assumption that we would not be sensitive to the needs of such a person if they did happen to enter the room. And in so doing, she became highly inconsiderate of the needs of people—clients—who actually were in the room at the time. (Incidentally, during the whole time we were at the museum, and we were there for most of the day, we did not see one disabled person.)
Now, I have a good friend who is disabled, and I am aware of the huge mobility problems she experiences, and also of how much the development of rules and procedures to assist mobility for disabled people have helped her. I am not for a second saying that there should not be principles and procedures to ensure that their needs are met. I also understand that rules become necessary when people lose touch with their sense of community, for it is that sense that predisposes one to sensitivity and awareness of the needs of others.
However, I feel that the rigid use of the rule, without judgement and due consideration, becomes a cyclical problem, ultimately predisposing to the very thing that one is attempting to avoid, namely a disconnectedness from the people around us, and the desensitization in society of our common humanity.
What does this have to do with education? A lot! The national curriculum becomes a rulebook if one is not careful. A child must learn to read at age four, because that is the intended outcome of the application of the national curriculum for four year olds. Ok. But what about the children who do not learn to read when they are four—or five, or six, or even ten? Now, because we have a rule, and they are not conforming to it, their uniqueness becomes a ‘problem’ Why? Because they do not follow the rules. There is no room for flexibility and sensitivity, and so, in addition to the knowledge that they are different to many other children, the child must also cope with that vague and unjust sense that they have failed, and even worse, are in the wrong - or that there is something wrong with them.
In the tearoom situation, there was a rule and a code of conduct prescribed, which, if applied, would make access easier for disabled people. Wonderful. This was a good idea, nothing wrong, in principle, with the rule. But, and this is a big but, there were no disabled people in the room at the time for whose sake the rule needed to be applied. I would have preferred a sensible, thinking approach in which the staff noted what had happened, and decided (1) to keep an eye open for any disabled people arriving in order to assist them, (2) gave us the benefit of the doubt, that we ourselves would not be inconsiderate of the needs of any disabled people that came, and (3) treated our needs with sensitivity too. If they had done this, the effect would have been that we, also their clients, would have had our needs considered, and they would have been able to meet the objective of assisting any disabled people—which was indeed the intention behind the rule.
Why did they not take this approach? Simply, because there was a rule. When there is a rule, one no longer needs to use one’s own judgement and intelligence. And that is why my sarcastic comment ‘rules are rules’ was taken in all seriousness by the staff member as the justification for her approach to the problem. Of course, added to this, there was probably the added complication of the fear of the consequence of not following the rules, because the rule was not developed by her in the first place, but came from someone ‘up there’!
Likewise, a child who learns differently must be made to conform, because there is a rule. Application of the national curriculum becomes a rule. A rule for learning targets set by someone who has never met the particular child, and knows nothing at all about them, their dreams, aspirations, desires, needs or struggles. And to make things worse, the poor teacher, the only one even vaguely aware of the real state of being of the child, doesn’t have any real freedom to adjust or modify the rule because of the pressure of OFSTED inspections.
We who home educate have brought our children home so that they can be free of that relentless pressure to conform. Our children are now subject to our rules. We had better take due care that we are not doing the same rigid and unthinking thing to our children in a different context. Why do parents become rigid? It is always related to fear of the consequences of not doing so. Fear of outside pressures and opinions and standards. It has nothing at all to do with the reality of the child in front of us. And the sooner we realize this, the better.
In the home, ‘rules are rules’ is just not true. Children are under their parents authority, and obedience is their mandate. As parents though, we had better make very, very sure that we are not unreasonable in our demands, placing heavy burdens on young shoulders in the name of discipline and training. Family rules should constantly be evaluated and adapted to fit the needs of the people using them.
