My daughter has recently turned three. And already I’m facing “that” question about my plans not to send her into mainstream schooling. “Aren’t you worried about her socialising?” “How will she socialise if she’s not in school?” “Don’t you think you’ll make her miss out on loads of time socialising with friends?”
No, I’m not remotely worried. But I always struggled to explain why not when put on the spot with questions like these. And it irritated me that I couldn’t articulate my convictions, and that perhaps I wasn’t even entirely sure of my reasons for not being worried about socialisation.
So I thought about it and over the past few weeks, I’ve come to better understand not only my lack of concern regarding the “socialisation” question, but also my inability to articulate my reasons behind this.
She’s already socialising! Since the day she was born, my daughter has been surrounded by people. She is never alone, and co sleeps for most of the night. She forms attachments and bonds and is secure in these. We also go out… a lot. My daughter orders in restaurants, pays in shops, has regular chats with the lady who runs the cafe over the road. These are all vital forms of communication that, as adults, we all need, and it can only be of benefit to our children if they are encouraged to engage in this kind of discourse themselves. There seem to be such limited opportunities for children and adults to interact and engage with one another outside of the family, and to me this feels like a great shame. I have seen the joy on adults’ faces when they chat to my daughter and she smiles or offers them a few words back. And I have seen the pride on my daughter’s face when she is brave enough to overcome her shyness and have a conversation with someone new. There seems to be a social norm that children interact with other children, and adults with adults, and personally I believe that more inter generational socialising would make our adults happier, and our children more confident.
I’ve come to understand that it’s the very definition of the “socialising” my daughter will be missing out on by not attending school, that sits so poorly with me. I would argue that children do not truly socialise in school. Their days in the classroom are spent adhering to behavioural expectations set by an authority (the teacher), which often include sitting quietly, not talking to one another, and working with a nominated child / children “nicely”. Breaktimes, which in theory should offer better opportunities for socialising, present similar expectations regarding when & what to eat, how to behave in the playground, where to sit, and what to do. In both the classroom and the playground, conflict and disagreement is reported to an authority, who swiftly steps in to resolve the situation. Now on the surface of it, these rules and expectations don’t seem like bad things; indeed it could be argued that without such rules, chaos would ensue. My thoughts on this particular matter are not relevant to the question at hand, which is socialising. My argument is that the school environment, both inside and outside the classroom, presents an artificial environment in which to socialise (when such socialising is permitted). Socialising at school is determined and managed by the authority, who, whilst well meaning, would hinder a child’s ability to genuinely socialise and to think for themselves. If all conflicts and disputes are reported and resolved by an authority outside of the children, how can the child ever learn to manage conflict himself? Our children’s behaviour in schools towards both one another, and towards authority is heavily moderated and managed by that authority. How will a child learn the value of giving and receiving respect when it is arbitrarily decided for them how they will behave towards others?
I have met and been involved with groups of home educated children, who’s socialisation was managed to a far lesser degree than schooled children, and there were many differences. In a mixed group of age, gender, and ability, the children did not discriminate. They played in girl / boy groups; 10 year olds mixed with 5 year olds; those with SEN were wholly included and involved to exactly the same degree as those without. There was no segregation of boys and girls, no streaming by age / ability, and no stigma so visible amongst schoolchildren towards the children with SEN, or who behaved differently. And what little conflict arose was managed by the children. Not once did they ask for adult intervention to resolve a dispute. They simply got on with things and sorted it out themselves.
The home educated children also seemed to converse more readily and comfortably with adults. Perhaps because they were not expected to use more formal terms of address for adults, but used their first names. Or perhaps because they were used to socialising with peers of different ages. It certainly felt more egalitarian, and I found myself engaged in more genuine conversations with real discourse and genuine exchange of information, as opposed to some of the conversations I’ve had with school children which often had more of an artificial “interview like” feel to them.
If schools gave children genuine opportunities for socialising, then I may feel more hesitant in my decision not to send my daughter there.
A child’s character and self expression has to be stifled in order for the traditional model of schooling to operate. A certain set of behaviours is expected and enforced in order for school to succeed as a system. The successful operation of the school, whilst a necessity for the school, is something I can live without, particularly at the cost of my child’s freedom of self expression. I will continue to give my daughter genuine opportunities to express herself, to interact with other people, and to allow her to come to her own decisions about who she likes, who she respects, and why. Obviously I would like her to be polite, considerate and good natured, and hope that by modelling this in my own interactions with others, she will recognise the value in such behaviour and choose to adopt similar.
I agree with your point that children do not truly socialise in school.
With reference to my time in Primary education it was noticeable that the structure within each lesson was fairly rigid whilst collaborative group work was often just a term used to describe children sitting around the same table. The setting of children in Numeracy, Literacy and Science, coupled with within-class ability grouping meant that children had little opportunity to mix with those outside of the school/teacher imposed restrictions. In the playground it was natural to play with those who you sat with in the classroom.
I still look back on what I consider my most successful lesson when nearing the end of my teaching practice. I had decided to leave the profession by that time and rather that follow the prescribed curriculum for Numeracy that day I allowed my class of year 2/3 children complete free choice of working partner (which threw up some very unexpected combinations).
I then set them the task of finding the numbers 1-20 outside of the classroom. A simple task of counting the number of paces it took to walk around a tree led to discussions as to why this was not always the same for their partner. Groups were helping other groups work out that as they had counted 4 legs on a horse, how many legs would there be on 2, 3 or 4 horses etc.
I was amazed that the usual behaviour problems within the classroom were not apparent for this session that lasted for a full hour and could have easily continued. Unfortunately the lesson would not have been viewed too well within the curriculum guidelines of satisfying a set learning objective or differentiating the work for pupils of differing ability levels. It did, however, demonstrate the value of socialisation and co-operation and I remain convinced that the self led learning in that hour was much greater than than the usual prescribed formula I had been taught to adopt in the classroom.
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