Self-Direction & Compulsion Are Strange Bedfellows

Can self-directed education and partnership parenting be compatible with control and coercion?

I’ve had a stone in my shoe for quite sometime now. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve begun, published, and discarded a few pieces of writing about it. Now I need to dump it out for good and move on to other things, such as my current passion of tapestry weaving, which I plan to share here in future, along with some memoir and maybe even a bit of poetry.

This stone involves how those of us dedicated to the idea of self-directed education and partnership parenting define control, coercion, and freedom.

Unlike when my family practiced self-directed living and learning before the author John Holt coined the term “unschooling” in the 1970s, today an increasing number of teachers and parents recognize that a great deal of learning happens when a young person controls, and therefore engages with, their own subject matter. That is a huge step for most educators, who have mostly experienced kids caught in classroom tedium and oppression, with the resulting rebellious behaviour. I celebrate this shift.

However, I also experience some cognitive dissonance when students are purportedly allowed to self-direct their learning but their attendance at school – both independent and public – is compulsory. Isn't forced attendance – and other compelled behaviour at school or home – coercion? Does non-coercion reside across a spectrum? Is there something inherently wrong with coercion? Can you believe in self-directed learning but require kids to study things you, as an adult, think is crucial for them to know? Is freedom age-specific? If we agree that learning (academic and otherwise) arises not from compulsion, memorization, and repetition of material created and dictated by someone else but through self-direction, investigation, and discovery, then where is the justification for coercive, compulsory participation at school or punishable rules at home?

Compulsion is coercive. So, for me, self-directed education is oxymoronic (not to mention ageist) if it is used within the context of a school that requires compulsory attendance. Benign jailers may be better than coercive ones, but they’re still jailers.

Activities can be described as “self-chosen,” or perhaps even be called “self-directed learning,” when they’re in the context of compulsory schooling. In fact, in some so-called democratic schools, kids can choose to do nothing. But I don’t see how it can be called a self-directed education if you have to be there because of insurance regulations, funding mechanisms, other legal circumstances, or some adultist bias or opinion about what’s good for you. Do you see my dilemma? (And my concern is about much more than semantics.)

There are other potential contradictions as we apply non-coercion and respect to our lives with children. In our families, where do nurturing, encouraging, guiding, and partnering stop and our sometimes-arbitrary rules kick in? Where is the line between our responsibility for younger people’s well-being and unnecessary control over them? Furthermore, if we believe in not trying to force children to learn, can we accept not trusting them to choose their own clothing, diet, and bedtime? Or managing their own use of electronics?

We all make choices based on our own beliefs, biases, and circumstances. However, sometimes, we are blinded by our adult privilege and don’t even realize we’re making dubious or unnecessary choices for children. But, as we walk the path of following the principles of trust, respect, fairness, and non-coercion, let’s try not to cover up any contradictions, create excuses for them, or use euphemisms. Let’s be honest with ourselves and our children about our choices and the reasons for them. And then, with their help, we can try to make better choices if necessary.

Growth and change often require us to step outside our comfort zones. Asking ourselves the difficult but honest questions that drill down into our ideas and beliefs can be challenging.

The answers may change as we think about them, and as we grow in our awareness of our own ageism and what it means to trust children. But I think we owe it to ourselves and our children to consider these questions and to ensure our language and actions accurately align with our beliefs.

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