When McKenzey and Isabelle McIntyre wake up on a Monday, the 13- and 12-year-old practice a little reading, spelling and math. Then they hang out, watch TV or do whatever they feel like for rest of the day. They don't go to school, take tests or submit assignments. They don't have to read To Kill a Mockingbird or solve algebra or learn any of the things their middle school peers would. The two girls aren't homeschooled. They're unschooled, and part of a growing community rejecting traditional education in every form.
Seven years ago, both sisters attended a traditional private school in Savannah, Georgia. "One of the better ones," according to their mom Chrissie, a 43-year-old, stay-at-home mom. But when her husband Michael started a new job in Florida, a tour of the local public school didn't impress the McIntyres. "There was barbed wire around the whole area," Chrissie says. "The principal or teacher took us around and we couldn't actually go inside the classrooms and talk to the teachers. She wouldn't allow it."
That visit — and Chrissie's retirement from an accounting job — inspired them to take a new direction. "If I could homeschool my kids just as good as the teacher could, why not?" she remembers thinking. Without the constraints of work, Chrissie could now watch her kids grow up, spending her days with the girls instead of putting them on the bus. "That's what drove me to homeschool," she says. "I felt like I'd missed all of that time — they were in school all day."
Chrissie's uncle, a former teacher and principal, then told her about unschooling, a type of homeschooling that rejects a traditional curriculum. In fact, the parents don't decide what to teach at all; it's entirely up to the child to pursue whatever interests them. Back in 1977, educator John Holt coined the phrase to describe students who direct their own learning, whether it's through hobbies, chores, work, travel and, yes, even TV and video games.
Now, an estimated 10% of the country's 2 million homeschoolers embrace his philosophy, according to Pat Farenga, an unschooling advocate and a member of the Alliance for Self-Directed Education. "It's a matter of teaching the spirit," he says. "You take control over your learning so that you feel like that learning has meaning to you, and that what you're doing with your life is more than just checking off a checkbox on somebody else's list."
The concept stuck with the McIntyres and enabled the couple to realize a persistent dream: Traveling the country full-time in an RV. After four years of unschooling in a "sticks-and-bricks house," Michael retired from his career in the auto industry, and the family began "road-schooling." "We always wanted to do it," Chrissie says. "We decided to take the plunge. It was scary at first, very scary, but it worked out."
Their daughters, however, took some time to adjust to the news. "My oldest one was kind of upset. My youngest one was kind of excited. After about six months, they both really enjoyed it," their mom says. The "fly-by-the-seat-our-pants kind of family" now drives anywhere that's a tank of gas away.
"At the beginning of the week I might say, 'We're in New Orleans. We could go to this museum, go to the zoo or do this. What do you guys want to do?'" Chrissie says. While her kids might ultimately pick what's on the agenda, she believes her role is far from nonexistent. She researches the different activities on Pinterest, and offers nudging and encouragement when needed. "It's hard to set demands for the kids. I try to give them one idea they have to do every day," she says. "My husband and I have learned to ask questions and then help guide them through an answer."
That support system means unschooling parents aren't playing hooky, according to Farenga. "The biggest misconception about unschooling is that parents do nothing," he says. "You're facilitating a child but you're also taking them places. You're investigating things."
Both of Chrissie's daughters gravitated toward creative interests. "McKenzey, the older one, is interested in fashion. So I found an online fashion class for a middle school kid," she says. "She got a sewing machine for Christmas. I'm trying to find online classes where she can learn how to sew because I do not know how to sew." Isabelle likes making jewelry, which she and her mom sell on Amazon to make extra money.
Both of the girls tried and hated computer programming. Another fail? Khan Academy, a free online education tool that teaches math, grammar and dozens of other traditional school subjects. "It's great, but the girls hated it," Chrissie says. After watching the video tutorials, McKenzey struggled to complete practice problems on her own. "I had to come in there and explain it to her — and she was still lost," her mom recalls. Instead, the family uses educational resources like Life With Fred and Touch Type Read Spell, but only as tools, not requirements. "Unschooling is about not using a curriculum, but sometimes kids need or want help with things," Chrissie stresses.
While sitting through class may seem like a rite of passage, every state allows unschooling, although with a wide variety of stipulations. "It's 50 different approaches," explains James Mason, the director of litigation for the Home School Legal Defense Association. A typical homeschooling law requires parents to issue a notice of intent, alerting their local school district that they are opting out. Some places need more information about what families plan to teach. If parents don't comply, they can be charged with truancy, potentially leading to juvenile court, a low-level misdemeanor or the involvement of child protective services.
"Unschoolers are no different than anyone else," Mason says. "They have to file the paperwork that's required by their state and do it in the timeline that's required." For the McIntyres, they meet Florida's statutes through their private unschool group. As long as they hold 180 school days, the girls don't violate any truancy laws. But for them, every day is a school day. "We're always learning something, so I don't really worry about it," Chrissie says.
Of course that doesn't stem other people's criticisms. "A lot of people we run into, they just can't wrap their brains around unschooling," she says. 'Kids will come up to them and go, "What's two plus two?" I mean, really, c'mon?'
But unschoolers are getting a real education, according to Farenga. "Everyone thinks that if you don't go to school, you're going to be missing something vitally important. What? Shakespeare? Homeschoolers do Shakespeare plays," he says. At the end of the day, unschooling is all about the process for him: "We don't know whether these things are going to go but we have to trust they will go somewhere beneficial because the child or young adult is energized and able to move forward with it."
However, a 2011 study in the Canadian Journal of Behavioural Science found unschoolers between the ages of 5 and 10 scored significantly below traditional students on academic achievement tests. (Structured homeschoolers performed the best out of all three groups.) Critics argue that standardized testing doesn't reflect a child's knowledge. But without a common metric, it's impossible to judge objectively how much kids are learning.
Besides, schools don't just teach subjects. A huge part of growing up is developing social skills, although Chrissie says her daughters play with other children all the time. "When we're on a campsite, the girls will go talk to kids," she says. "They'll make them talk to them, and they'll play with them even if it's for a day or two."
In fact, she thinks her daughters have it better than the average student in some ways. "A child going to school only interacts with the people in their class and their age," she explains. "They interact with kids that are not only 2 or 3 but also 18 or 19. They don't care what age you are. They just want to play and hang out."
Like any parent, Chrissie sometimes wonders if the family made the right choice. "There are days when the kids are driving me crazy and I wish I could get away from them," she laughs, before getting serious. "I worry constantly. I go through days where I'm like, 'Oh my gosh, they're never going to read. They're never going to be able to do math. How are they going to do if they decide to go to college? I'm ruining their lives.'" Then the girls finally sit me down and go, "Mom, you need to chill out."'
Those doubts haven't changed her mind though. Chrissie truly believes her girls are equipped for anything that life can throw at them. "My philosophy is that if you can read, if you can write and you can do math, you can pretty much do anything you need to," she explains. "I don't think there's anything missing, and if there is, I think we'll find a way to solve it." McKenzey is already talking about getting her GED, and higher education is on the table. "If she wants to go to college, she'll figure out how to do that. If she doesn't want to go to college, I'm okay with that also," Chrissie says.
McKenzey wouldn't be alone. According to a 2014 survey of 75 unschoolers, a whopping 83% went on to pursue higher education, a big proportion considering the national average clocks in at 66%. Most believed that they actually had an academic advantage over their peers, and, yes, they did eventually get jobs. About three-quarters reported they were financially self-sufficient, with many working in creative fields.
"We were unschooling our daughters in the '80s and '90s," Farenga says of his three grown children. "They all went to college. Two graduated, one didn't like college and didn't. They're all employed with full-time jobs. One of them went on and got an advanced degree, a masters in social work."
As a former unschooler, Nadia Sladkey decided to enroll at a local community college and take the GED before applying to universities. The combination earned the Massachusetts native admission at Simmons College in Boston, where she graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. 'I took college-level classes during my "high school years," so I was used to college format of classes and that level of work,' she explains. Now, the 24-year-old works as a staff nurse at UMass Memorial Medical Center in Worcester. "I have no regrets," she says. "It sounds corny but I really do love learning."
In Chrissie's mind, higher education all depends on her kids' goals. "If you want to be a doctor, you need to go to college. Nobody's going to let you do brain surgery if you don't have a degree," she says. "If you're a fashion designer or if you're a manager at McDonald's, do you need a college degree? Not really, honestly."
With or without that diploma, her kids' approach to education still impresses Chrissie. "If they have a question about something, they'll go find the answer and they'll come tell me. It just amazes me how much they learn. Kids are naturally curious. They want to learn if you just give them that opportunity," she says. "It's kind of hard for people to wrap their brains about we're doing. It's still learning. The kids are still being educated even though they're free to watch TV for three days straight."
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