Rising Out of Hampshire College
by Peter Kowalke

The seed was planted by a comment Grace Llewellyn made last spring. While interviewing the author of The Teenage Liberation Handbook for my bimonthly publication, Nation Magazine, the conversation drifted to the current unschooling frontiers. Grace was very pleased by the ease with which unschoolers could now gain admission to college. One of the new frontiers for Grace was graduate school; could unschoolers bypass college altogether and still find access to law or medical school? The idea was immediately intriguing and, I must say, a bit compelling. Talking about and trailblazing frontiers require vastly different levels of difficulty, however. So we discussed the literal interpretation of unschooling in college and its consequences without ever linking the concept to my own possible future.

Four months later, however, Grace’s words still were in my head. Everything else about the conversation was a blur, save our digression about unschooling in college. Acceptance into law or medical school didn’t matter too much since I had no intention of going premed or becoming a lawyer. Unschooling during the college years had a seductive ring, on the other hand, as well as a stubborn persistence in its logic. Why not unschool in college? Besides debt, what could college bring my life that unschooling could not?

As an longtime unschooler, wasn’t I also forsaking my educational choice of the past decade by switching to institutional learning when the stakes were at their highest? If unschooling truly was successful, what was the impetus for betraying my unschooling roots? The implicit message was that institutional education done right is better than homeschooling. By going to college, I was subtly devaluing my entire education up to that point and announcing that I had succeeded in spite of my educational background—that good unschooling couldn’t match good schooling.

Subversive seeds had been planted, but last year I still headed off to college. A change was needed. By my own harsh standards, I felt intellectually dry. Unschooling had grown stale in recent years, and it was time to embrace college life and its supposedly life-altering lessons. It was my impression that I had learned much of what unschooling and my family/community had to offer. Dampening ideological objections by attending an “alternative” college without grades, tests or majors, Hampshire College was supposed to whisk me away to a new part of the country, broaden my horizons, allow me to meet stimulating people, and develop me beyond what I could do at home.

Largely, Hampshire lived up to my goals. The college had improved on my education as an unschooler by offering 1) improved socialization, 2) group discussion, 3) access to additional opportunities, equipment and facilities, 4) an organized introduction to ideas and opinions that might not have been readily apparent from a single perspective, 5) an incentive to stay focused and driven as a student, 6) added intellectual depth to topics, and 7) regular interaction with mentors who were familiar with the ideas and concepts being studied.

None of the improvements were native to institutional education, however, and that did not go unnoticed. As I would write this column every other month, or praise Hampshire’s benefits to prospective students, a little part of me would question the necessity of college at the same time. There were definite benefits to attending college, but with a little creativity unschooling could do all the same. College had its detractions, too, such as its price, the separation from family during the school year, the emphasis on competition, and the inherent bureaucracy of institutional education. Worst of all, college wasn’t very flexible or “organic,” to use my own, imprecise complaint. I couldn’t exorcise college unschooling from my thoughts.

Part of unschooling’s allure rested in my general discontent with college life. Before enrolling at Hampshire, I spent a few years attending a wonderfully operated and well-supported community college in my area. Despite a great affinity for the college, its traditional approach and associated trappings (grades, tests, pressure, sleep deprivation, et cetera) demanded a lifestyle that reduced my creative energy and personal health. Inexperience in the classroom and trying to make college work cloaked my growing discontent with the college system. So, I moved on to Hampshire. After a few years of college, however, inexperience was no longer an excuse for discontent. What gave unschooling renewed power was the fact that a year of Hampshire, a notoriously flexible liberal arts college, produced nearly identical results to that of the community college. My body and mind felt misused, abused, wasted at college. The only positive and truly natural educational setting I knew, the one I used to judge all others, was unschooling.

So, recently I took the leap. After much soul searching, I filed for a leave of absence from Hampshire College April of this year. To my surprise, it felt like my first good decision since starting college. My heart knew I was doing the right thing again. Finally. I was scared and again vulnerable to attacks from people who thought I was making a big educational mistake. Yet, I was upbeat and energetic. As I began to daydream in my less exciting Hampshire classes, notepads started to contain lists. Most important was the list of things that I would like to learn. Another important list attempted to address the ways in which I could use both my knowledge of Hampshire and my knowledge of non-institutional education to craft the ideal unschooling experience. Other lists followed, too, such as activities and internships I wanted to pursue, places I wanted to visit, even a list of colleges I might utilize in reaching my educational goals. As I built lists, it became evident that I was very excited about the prospect of not returning to college in the fall.

Synthesizing the best of Hampshire with the most exciting aspects of my unschooling experience was an exciting endeavor. I was a kid in a toy store, placing all of my favorite memories into a giant cart; building my new educational framework. Principally, three new twists would be added to my old unschooling lifestyle—study groups, mentors, and a utilization of college resources. The main thrust of my return to self-directed learning would be small study groups composed of homeschoolers and other interested friends. Borrowing a chapter from effective college classes, we’d pick a topic, find a mentor knowledgeable in the field, build a preliminary list of books and activities necessary to achieve our goals, and meet regularly to disseminate and discuss ideas together. Mentors would provide a starting point for research, as well as provide valuable context to our studies.

While at Hampshire, I got the distinct impression that many professors would eagerly work with students who took a particularly keen interest in their field of study. Interest in the basic tenets of a subject would not suffice (stuff that you could get from a book), but an avid interest in a professor’s research and passion could encourage many professors to help students not enrolled in his or her classes. In addition to professors, I foresaw an added utilization of college libraries, computers and equipment, all of which usually are accessible to people who just “happen” to be on the campus with paying students.

Mixing with my joy and excitement at unschooling again, however, was a dread that social pressure would be so great that I might relent and cancel my leave of absence once friends and family begin to object. Although as a youngster I may have possessed the power to withstand "Where do you go to school, Peter,” answering "Why did you drop out of college?" could very well submarine my self-confidence. College is a major tool for elitism, and not going to college gives everyone the opportunity to deny a college perk that I was just starting to enjoy: general respect for my abilities and intelligence.

Not a supremely confident person, I’ve decided to temper the move to unschooling. For now I’m not formally “rising out of college,” as Grace might call it. To the world at least, I’m deferring the cost of a Hampshire education by completing independent study projects until January. Around November I’ll decide if I should return to Hampshire, embark on a long, continuous stretch of college unschooling, or find a line between the two and graduate eventually, albeit on my own terms.

In the interim, I must relearn why I’m a “unschooler” in college, and what that means to me. I think there is a difference, and it must not be glossed over too quickly. The journey didn’t end with choosing a college or a career.

Originally printed in the September-October, 1999 issue of Home Education Magazine.
Visit Peter’s web site: www.grownwithoutschooling.com