Switch it Up

I have never been a video game person. We had a Sega Genesis as kids, and then an N64, and they were fun, but playing a couple of rounds of Sonic or Diddy Kong Racing was enough for me and it wasn't something I was ever obsessed with. For my 8-year-old, however, games are a passion.

My husband said to me this morning that to invest in E's education, we should probably buy him a Switch. He was completely serious. And I, in equal seriousness, answered that yes that was a good idea, before commenting that the exchange we just had would probably only be heard in an unschooling home. We both chuckled. We know that video games are central to our son's learning, and we know that our commitment to letting our son's interests direct his education might seem unusual to those in the wider world.

We know E learns an immense amount through both gaming and watching YouTube videos about gaming. These are his two preferred independent activities and how he taught himself to read at age 6. Since age 5, he has been playing various games on an old laptop of my husband's, a desktop borrowed from my husband's lab, and my husband's old Nintendo DS (you can probably tell who is the adult video game enthusiast in our house!), so it's probably about time he had his own system! It still seems a little strange to think about a purchase like a Switch as a literal educational investment, but that's exactly what it would be for our family.

During my son's burnout period, he only felt safe in his bedroom, playing Minecraft, with me on the other computer beside him. We're now a year or so beyond that period and his days are much more varied, but when he does play video games or watch YouTube, right now it's all about Mario Maker.

I wrote a few weeks ago about his rekindled love of all things Nintendo. This new period beyond our coregulatory video games for two era is very different for me because he plays on the Nintendo DS, and plays alone. During burnout, when he needed me next to him at all hours of the day or night, I knew exactly what he was learning every minute because I was right beside him to lend him my nervous system, and, by default, to offer any learning support he needed in the moment. Thus, I documented countless examples of his math and literacy learning throughout that period. Now, he's out of burnout, and also several years older, so he doesn't need me there as often for coregulation and support. That makes the documentation harder. He's a fluent reader now and the only time he asks for my help with games is for something like when he needs me to Google how to beat certain bosses if he is getting really frustrated. Which I do, and we figure it out. One of his love languages is also sharing details of his recently watched videos and beaten bosses, so I do hear about his exploits in the form excited monologues in the kitchen.

And, every few days, he wants to show me the new levels he has created in Mario Maker (I usually die about 10 times and then he does the rest of his level for me because I'm not good enough to get through it in a reasonable time frame!). Occasionally, he also asks me to make him levels, but I'm really not very good at that. The last time he asked me to make him a level, I was very much not in the mood to spend what could be my own free time trying to do something I don't full understand, only for him to eventually tell me my creation sucks. That is not enjoyable. I told him this and asked him to give me a tutorial of how to make a good level so I would know what to do. He happily went into professor mode and I got a very thorough breakdown of E's Top Steps to Making a Good Level in Mario Maker. He gave me the key points that every good level should have and I modeled synthesizing and repeating his points back to him for clarification (not only to show him that I cared enough to want to listen and remember his ideas, or that I realized it would be an important opportunity to document his learning in this game, but also so I would actually remember when it came to my turn to make something!). Below is a snippet from our conversation about what makes a good level...

"First, it needs to be polished, so pick the bricks you are going to use and don't go crazy with too many different styles. Then, you need a gimmick, kind of like a theme. Pick the main bad guy you're going to use or something like that. Then, add some secrets. Some fun hidden things that the player can find. And your level needs to have flow, so like the player needs to naturally know where to go. Then you have to go through it and make sure there aren't any bugs. When you make a level, you have to think about what the player would think when they play your level. You know everything, but they don't, so try and imagine you are them when you play it through. If there is a glitch that only you know that is the only way to beat the level, that's called "dev cheese." If the player finds glitch that makes something super easy, it's called "cheese." You don't want cheese in your level! You can also make a troll level where you try and prank people with tricks, but that takes too much tech for you, so you probably wont want to do that."

He spoke with such confidence and clarity. I really did learn a lot from his mini lecture! And, even more importantly, I saw and heard the enjoyment in his voice and his face as he told and showed me what to do. It's wonderful to witness those moments. I'm not there for every tiny step along the way anymore because he doesn't need me, so when he does share a big chunk of knowledge in this way, it's a rather delightful glimpse into what he has been up to lately. (It also shows me how little I know about video game lingo like the term "dev cheese" - who knew?!)

As E works more and more independently, I haven't been able to document as much of his learning process, so I jotted down what we spoke about right after the conversation. Making his invisible creative process visible through documentation is a key part of how I keep track of his progress. I don't have a perfect notetaking system; I just jot things down by hand in my day planner which I keep on the kitchen counter, or in a note on my phone. After we had the conversation about how to make a good Mario level, it jolted my memory about having made a note somewhere about something I gleaned from one of his info dumps last week. I flipped back through my notebook but didn't see what I was looking for, but did eventually find it on my phone. Documentation doesn't have to be perfect or neat, you just need to get the ideas jotted down somewhere! Putting it all together in a cohesive way after the fact is a good way to reflect anyways.

So, when I found the note in my phone, I remembered that he had been showing me the names of his levels, which were all quite clever. They also made good use of conventional spelling and punctuation. Two of my favourites were "Musical Masterpiece" and "Precision." As he was reading through them, he came across one he had called "Mole" and said, "Wait, that needs to be more dramatic." And then added several exclamation points. He's never had a formal lesson on punctuation, but has naturally gained an understanding of when and where to use exclamation marks simply by seeing them in use in the print (and digital print) he interacts with. Likewise, we've never spoken about alliteration, but he naturally knew that "Musical Masterpiece" sounded good together.

With "Precision," I remember he actually asked me how to spell that; he had it written beginning with "pro" but wasn't sure and wanted my help, so that gave us an opportunity to talk about how vowel sounds sometimes are hard to decipher, but in this case the root of precision is the word precise, where the e is more clear, and it is in fact an e And we talked about other words that start that way and the e is hear, like pretend. He's at the age now where he wants things to be spelled conventionally and thinks "best guess spelling" is for babies. I told him most adults still look up some words, or rely on spell check. His spelling doesn't have to be perfect. We had to talk about how spelling just gets easier the more you read and notice patterns and that English has so many words that aren't spelled phonetically or are exceptions to a rule that good spelling really only comes with time and practice, and there's always google. Me trying to placate him that his idea to call the level "Precision" (which is an awesome word to describe a very detailed level he made where you have to have precise timing to get through spurting lava faucets and swinging axe thingies (I'm sure he would be able to tell me the actual names for these elements!)), was more important than whether it was spelled right was hard for him to accept; his PDA brain would prefer if he could be an expert in everything immediately. Not knowing something he wants to know puts him and me out of balance and thus triggers his threat response. As a more knowledgeable facilitator, it's so hard for me to navigate these discussions as someone with information to give while also being conscious that everything I say is going to either accommodate or activate his nervous system. Luckily, he's at the point now where his nervous system can handle these interactions with only mild irritation - he was the one who asked me to help him spell the word, after all! I just wrote an entire paragraph about one single learning interaction, so you can see that PDA adds a layer of complexity to our life that other unschoolers may never have to consider; I want to help him, he wants my help, but I have to give it in a way that doesn't activate his nervous system too much. Accommodating his nervous system disability takes care and hypervigilance; it's second nature for me now, but breaking it down in writing here reminds me just how exhausting it can be, especially when you think this is just one of many many conversations we would have in a day.

Unschooling a PDAer is both beautiful and complex. I'm often in awe of my son's capacity as an autodidact, he's brilliant and wildly creative, and having to be hypervigilant about every interaction we have so I don't trigger a panic attack unnecessarily is exhausting. Both things can be true. Acknowledging that both exist side by side is essential I think.

I have been doing some work behind the scenes lately on a masterclass I am developing about unschooling our PDAers. The working title is The Unmap to Unschooling. I'm hoping it can be a helpful resource for other families dealing with this level of complexity on a daily basis. Stay tuned!