Rage to learn

Learning and anger. Learning and frustration. Discovering and recognising (sometimes physical) limits…

Through my close ties with unschoolers I got to know Lini Lindmayer, and I would like to thank her for allowing us to share her great article:

One accusation you hear again and again about free, self-directed learning – completely unfounded, as I would like to show once again – is that if small people learned this way they would experience neither frustration nor anger. I don’t really know how anyone gets the idea that something like that would not happen. For learning always involves the possibility of anger and frustration – even when learning is free and self-directed. Admittedly, though, anger and frustration then actually always come from within and not – as with forced, instructional learning – from outside, through assessment and reprimands or the “you can’t do it anyway” message.

BUT I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO IT

Big tears roll down our seven-year-old’s cheeks. She doesn’t want comfort. She is infinitely angry. So angry that it has brought her to tears. But I want to be able to do it, she screams between sobs. At that moment I can do no more than be there. So I sit beside her until she jumps up again and carries on. Relentlessly. Driven by her inner wish to finally be able to do a handstand too. For days she has been in the grip of acrobatics fever. She practises and practises and practises. With a book from our bookshelf. Bridge, headstand, handstand, the splits… Everything that is in any way suitable for practising is put to a new use. Two days, many tears and bruises later…

she shows me with a beaming smile that she can now push herself up from a headstand into a handstand. The anger forgotten, the tears forgotten… until the next step is not achieved the way she imagined. I think of our eldest and her tireless practising, her tears and her anger when she was learning to ride a unicycle… Change of scene: our son wants to write a story. Without spelling mistakes. If he doesn’t manage it, he gets angry. So angry that he rubs out everything – the whole story – or puts the sheet of paper, story and all, into the stove. But making mistakes is part of learning… My cautious attempt to comfort him fails dismally. His anger only grows. But I don’t want to make mistakes!!!!! I want to be able to do it! Do you understand?

Yes, I understand. Very well, in fact. It can make you terribly angry when something doesn’t work out the way you thought or imagined. And soothing words don’t help, let alone good advice.

The small difference

Anger and frustration crop up in both cases – in free, self-directed learning just as in forced learning. The difference, however, is that in the latter, anger and frustration cause interest, if there ever was any, to fade. It is quite different with free, self-directed learning. What I find fascinating time and again is that anger and frustration often increase ambition even further. Almost to the point of being unbearable – at least for us grown-ups watching. And that despite all the anger, they simply keep practising stubbornly. That the little ones are not simply content with the fact that it doesn’t work yet, or not the way they imagined. But I want to be able to do it. I don’t want to stop! I just want to practise until I can do it.

But can’t you help somehow?

The impulse is there – of course. When your son or daughter stands in front of you with big tears, when you know or see where the problem lies, when you see that only a tiny bit is missing before they can do it… then you want to do something. You absolutely want to “help” this little person. And yes, of course, I can accompany handstand practice just as I can accompany learning to spell… but take the learning process off their hands? The understanding/recognising/discovering? That’s not possible. And as I wrote above: good advice and soothing words are not always helpful. “Why don’t you take a break,” I suggested to our eldest back then when she was learning to ride the unicycle. But she didn’t want to take a break. Just like her little sister right now, or her brother when he wants to write a story – without mistakes. Learning can be full of hurdles and sometimes failures too. Full of moments in which anger and frustration are much greater than the feeling of happiness. And yet. And yet the joy so often seems unbroken. Despite all the tears and the many moments when it doesn’t work out the way you want… And what can we do? There is not really anything we can do. Except be there. Listen. With open ears and arms that hold the little person when they need it. And watch. Later, when it works and we can be happy together. For despite all the anger and the greatest frustration, I experience these moments of infinite joy and infinite happiness just as often. When what is to be achieved is finally achieved. By their own strength.