Monster & Teeny

A rabbit, bird, fish, squirrel, duck and so on, all decided to start a school. The rabbit insisted that running had to be in the curriculum. The bird insisted that flying be in the curriculum. The fish insisted that swimming be in the curriculum. The squirrel insisted that perpendicular trees climbing be in the curriculum.

All the other animals wanted their specialty to be in the curriculum, too, so they put everything in and then made the glorious mistake of insisting that all the animals take all of the courses. The rabbit was magnificent in running; nobody could run like the rabbit. But they insisted that it was good intellectual and emotional discipline to teach the rabbit flying. So they insisted that the rabbit learned to fly and they put her on this branch and said, "Fly, rabbit!" And the poor old thing jumped off, broke her leg and fractured her skull. She became brain-damaged and then she couldn’t run very well, either.

The same way with the bird — she could fly like a freak all over the place, do loops and loops, and she was making an A. But they insisted that this bird burrow holes in the ground like a gopher. Of course she broke her wings and everything else, and then she couldn’t fly.

We know this is wrong, yet nobody does anything about it. You may be a genius. You may be one of the greatest writers in the world, but you can’t get into a university unless you can pass trigonometry. For what? Look at the list of drop outs: William Faulkner, John F. Kennedy, Thomas Edison. They couldn’t face school. "I don’t want to learn perpendicular tree climbing. I’m never going to climb perpendicularly. I’m a bird. I can fly to the top of the tree without having to do that."

"Never mind, it’s good discipline."

As an individual, you must not be satisfied with just becoming like everybody else. You must think for yourself. For example, art supervisors. I can remember when they used to come to my classroom in elementary school, and I’m sure you can remember it, too. You were given a paper, and the teacher would put up the drawing in front of you and you were really excited. It was going to be art time. You had all the crayolas in front of you, and you folded your hands and you waited. And soon the art teacher would come running in, because she had been to fourteen other classrooms that day teaching art. She ran in, and she’d huff and puff and she’d say, "Good morning girls and boys. Today we are going to draw a tree." And all the kids would say, "Goody, we’re going to draw a tree!" And then she’d get up there with a green crayola and she’d draw this great big green thing. And then she put a brown base on it and a few blades of grass. And she’d say, "There is a tree." And all the kids would look at it and they’d say, "That isn’t a tree. That’s a lollipop." But she said that was a tree, and then she’s pass out these papers and say, "Now, draw a tree." She didn’t really say, "Draw a tree" — she said, "Draw my tree." And the sooner you found out that’s what she meant and could reproduce this lollipop and hand it to her, the sooner you would get an A.

But here was little Janie who knew that wasn’t a tree, because she’d seen a tree such as this art teacher had never experienced! So she got magenta, and orange, and blue, and purple, and green, and she scribbled all over her page and happily brought it up and gave it to the teacher. She looked at it and said, "Oh my God…."

How long does it take somebody to realize that what they’re really saying is, "To pass, I want you to reproduce my tree." And so it goes through the first grade, second, third and right on into seminars in graduate school. I teach seminars in graduate school. It’s amazing how people have learned to parrot by then. Think? Don’t be ridiculous. They can give you the facts, verbatim, just as you’ve given it to them. And you can’t blame those students, because that’s what they’ve been taught. You say to them, "Be creative," and they’re fearful. And so what happens to our uniqueness; what happens to our tree? All this beautiful uniqueness has gone right down the drain. Everybody is like everybody else, and everybody is happy. R.D. Laing says, "we are satisfied when we’ve made people like ourselves out of our children: Frustrated, sick, blind, deaf…..

Excerpted from the book, LIVING, LOVING & LEARNING by Leo Buscaglia

Pretty early on in our HE ‘career’ I stumbled across the above piece of writing. It spoke to me more than pretty much anything else I’d ever read. It has formed the basis of my educational philosophy, my approach to parenting and been much quoted and misquoted by me with my own additional examples of reasons why we should all be allowed to get on with the one thing we are bloody great at - being ourselves!

I have always been one for celebrating the individual, long before I had children or knew about Home Education but plenty of my ways of doing things are extensions of just that - celebrating individuality. I recall at a fairly early age being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up and answering ‘Nicola’. The happiest and most content people in life are those who accept themselves, the others around them and enjoy and revel in all the differences between us. Those people who believe they would be happy if only they lost three dress sizes / had straighter hair / lived in a bigger house / had a partner / didn’t have a partner / won the lottery are kidding themselves. If you ain’t basically happy now, chances are you never will be. And I believe the key to happiness is contentment within yourself. To achieve that you truly have to believe that actually you are pretty bloody great and if you believe it chances are other people will too. So find what it is that drives you, that motivates and inspires you, that stirs up passion within you and that you are good at, seek out your special skill and work on honing it, making it even better and just spend time doing what you are good at and what makes you happy.