We live in a city that sprawls, and it takes a good hour, maybe an hour-and-a-half, to traverse its full north-south axis–in perfect traffic. There is one key north-south route that we take all the time, and as we enter what we, as inner-city habitants called “The Deep South,” there is a newly constructed Toyota dealership that went all out with the architecture-crazy and built itself a four-story high, all-glass-window, tower, in which it displays the dealership’s flagship cars. If you’re an 11-year-old boy counting down the years until you can get a learner’s permit, this dealership is the epitome of architectural perfection. And so, every time we pass it, Cinder comments on its awesomeness. And I politely agree, although, car-ignoramus that I am, I honestly couldn’t care less. I don’t even notice what cars it has on its various floors.
But Cinder does. And he notices that they’ve changed. And so, he starts to ponder how they get those cars in and out of there. Ramps? Elevators? Trap-doors? His favourite idea is that the whole entire top part of the building is an elevator that can be lowered and raised at will. As we scoot past the building yet again one day, he suddenly sighs in exasperation.
“You know what, Mom? I’m tired of just guessing. Let’s go over there and find out.”
And that, friends, is what unschooling is. Want to know? Find out.
It really is that simple.
If I don’t want to know… you can try to teach me. But I probably won’t learn.
When I want to know… I’ll find out.