What Is the Actual Goal?
Four words. That's all.
Four words that I have found more disruptive and more useful than almost anything else in four years of homeschooling.
What is the actual goal?
It's not a comfortable question. It doesn't confirm what you're already doing — it interrogates it. And when you start asking it honestly, about everything, you find out very quickly how many things you are doing for reasons you cannot clearly articulate.
We were arguing about handwriting once. The letters weren't sitting on the line. The slant was wrong. I could hear my own voice getting that particular tone — the one that means I've stopped teaching and started just insisting.
He looked up at me and said: "Why does it matter how it looks if you can read it?"
I didn't have a good answer.
So I asked myself: what is the actual goal here?
The first answer was neat handwriting. Then I pushed past it. Why neat handwriting? So he can communicate clearly in writing. And is what we're doing right now — this argument, this insistence on the slant — moving us toward that?
It was not. It was moving us toward him hating handwriting.
That's what the question does. It cuts through the surface answer to the real one.
Some things survive it easily. The read-aloud survives it. The math at the kitchen counter survives it. The library trips survive it. When I ask what the actual goal is, I can answer immediately and we keep going.
But a lot of things don't survive it. Worksheets of problems he already knows how to do — what is the actual goal? I have never come up with a good answer. Insisting on a format for a subject he's already mastered — what's the actual goal? Usually: so it looks right. So it matches some mental image of what school is supposed to look like. So I feel like I've done my job.
That's not a goal. That's a ritual.
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A question I've been sitting with: What is one thing in our homeschool I've never questioned — and what would happen if I asked what it was actually for?
Love,
Claire