The school of the road.

Before we left Daylesford we had a meeting with the principal of our girls' school. We told him of our plan to travel this enormous land of ours. We assured him that as well as all the exploring there would be journal keeping, book reading and blog writing. He loved the idea. Together we agreed that the lessons learned on the road would be important ones and he wished us well and sent us on our way.

I am great at listing the benefits of the school of the road to anyone who asks. I have no trouble justifying how improved their geography is, how wonderful their Australian history, their social studies, their life skills.

But I am not very good at the real schooling part. I thought I'd be better.

I watch other parents in the caravan park patiently sitting with their kids doing maths and spelling and reading and writing. Sometimes I hear the kids in the shower blocks discussing what module they are up to and how many weeks until they are finished. I hear parents rushing their kids out of the pool to finish their maths.

That makes me feel guilty.

And so I buy activity books and make them fill in the pages. And we read together and journal and sometimes I sit my girls down in front of pieces of white paper and give them the first sentences of stories... 'It happened at sunset...' and 'Once when I dived deep down under the waves...' I start them off and they write pages and pages and then read them out to us proudly.

Then I feel like the best Mum in town and vow to make them do schooling more often. But the next day we head out on a boat early and the day after that we pack up and leave the caravan park and drive somewhere new and the day after that the concept of schooling has long been forgotten.

I always assumed that they would watch me and my farmer boy read book after book, writing my blog and my journal and want to do the same. I assumed they would want some sort of structure. Some sort of schooling. But they don't.

My kids would rather play, swim, make stuff or draw.

And then a few months into this trip I watched as my middle kid took ages to write a postcard and my eldest preferred to read a magazine than a book and I worried. I know that they are not keeping up with what their classmates are doing back home but I do not want them to go backwards either.

They do have journals filled with drawings and descriptions of places we've been and things we've seen and done. Miss Indi had a rating system, one through ten, for everything. And Miss Jazzy draws elaborate drawings. But is this enough??

They have visited almost every type of museum and sanctuary and gallery and natural attraction that you can imagine. 

And experiences along the way have lead to in depth conversations and discussions on issues like indigenous rights, refugees, remote living, respect, history, art and culture. Conversations that have a depth of understanding and feeling because of what they have witnessed and experienced.

One such lengthy discussion happened one night after dinner in Eighty Mile beach. There was a man there called Bill who spent his days driving his four wheel motor bikes up and down the beach looking for suspicious activity. He had coast watch signs on all his bikes and *Billawood detention centre sign on his cabin. 

We spoke about the refugee situation for hours. The maturity of opinions and the understanding that was evident in this timely debate filled me with confidence and pride.

I have no doubt that my girls are ahead of their peers in some subjects. They have had experiences and learned lessons that you could never get in a classroom or a book. My fear is that they will go back to school next year and struggle with the academic subjects. My hope is that they will have a maturity that will enable them to realise the work that has to be done to catch up and get on with it.

Time will tell.

See ya!

* a play on the his name and the Villawood detention centre