Bus Station Interview

on explaining unschooling to strangers in foreign lands

“Are they all yours?”

The stranger smiles and gestures to the dozen teenagers wearing bright clothes and sporting colored hair. Some are laughing and cuddling, while others read books or bury their faces in phones.

We’re in a bus station, but we might equally be in an airport, hostel, cafe, or park. I sense the conversation about to take place: one that I’ve had many times, in many countries, with many people.

“Yes, they’re all mine. And my co-leader’s, too.” I gesture toward a twenty-something on the other side of the station who’s making a call.

“How long are you guys traveling?”

“Six weeks.”

“How old are they?”

“The youngest is 14 and the oldest is 19.”

“Wow, they’re so young to be traveling for that long! What kind of program is it? Study abroad?”

“No, it’s more of an adventure travel program.”

“So they’re not learning anything?”

“Well, they might pick some interesting facts up along the way—but no, it’s not academically focused.”

“So it’s more outdoor-focused? Bungee jumping and river rafting and rock climbing?”

“No, we don’t do much of that stuff either. Maybe some light hiking.”

“Is it a service trip?”

“Every now and then we do some volunteering.”

Now the stranger is confused.

“So what do you actually do?”

I grin. “Well, it’s more about exploration. I create the itinerary in advance, and there are some group activities that everyone’s expected to join. But within each day, the teens have a lot of free time to just wander around. It’s kind of the like the first big trip that you might take after college, where you make things up as you go along.”

“So they can just go wherever they want?”

“Sort of. They need to stay in groups of three or more, and they need to tell us where they’re going and have a way to get in touch for emergencies. But otherwise, yes, they can pretty much go where they want and do what they want.”

The stranger laughs out loud, and then continues their curious inquisition.

“Isn’t that stressful for you? If I was allowed to roam around a foreign country unsupervised at age 16 with my friends, I would have gotten into so much trouble.”

“Well, we have rules about drinking, drugs, and doing stupid stuff. They can get kicked out. But that doesn’t really happen. They’re really nice kids, and everyone plays by the rules.”

“How does it work? Do their parents just sign them up?”

“No, everyone has to do an interview to prove that they know what they’re getting themselves into, and that they’re personally excited for the trip. I don’t want to take responsibility for a teenager who doesn’t want to be there! They also need to show that they’re basically independent and have spent real time away from home, like going to summer camp or spending a week with the grandparents.”

“So, do they come from some fancy private school? Are they rich kids? How are they even allowed to be here right now—isn’t it the middle of the school year?”

Now, we are arriving at my favorite part of these conversations.

Chile, 2011

“Well, they’re mostly unschoolers. It’s kind of like homeschooling, but more about following your interests than doing school at home. There’s no academic calendar, so they can travel whenever they want. Some of them do go to alternative private schools, but they’re not super expensive like the ones you’re imagining. Unschooling is mostly a middle-class thing in the US. My trips do cost a few thousand dollars, so they’re not accessible to everyone. But most of these teens will only go on one adventure like this in their young lives, and they're grateful for the experience.”

I watch the stranger tilt their head slightly sideways, like a dog that’s just heard a funny noise. Fifteen different questions seem to be jostling for first place in their mind.

“Wait, what’s it called—unschooling? Is that legal?”

“All over the United States, yes. It’s the same thing as homeschooling in the eyes of the law. Canada, the U.K., Australia, New Zealand, and a few European countries allow it too. But almost all the kids on these trips are from the U.S. or Canada.”

“What’s the name of the organization you work for?”

“Unschool Adventures. It’s my company, actually. I’ve been doing this since 2008.”

“So this is your job? How many trips do you run a year?”

“Just one or two. I’m a writer, too, but that doesn’t really pay the bills.”

An overhead announcement blares in a foreign language, forcing a momentary pause in the conversation. I glance at my group. They’re doing fine.

“And these unschoolers”—the stranger gestures toward the group—“do they do alright? Do they go to college? Can they get jobs?”

I smile, because we’ve skipped the more typical first question: Are they socialized? Maybe the answer was apparent after seeing my group hanging out, just like any group of teenagers.

“Yes, they do alright. Many of them do go to college. Others start working, or pursue their art, or learn to code, or just keep dabbling in different fields for a while before choosing a focus.”

“So they must be really smart.”

"I’m not quite sure what you mean by smart,” I respond. “Lots of them don’t match well with school. They’re slapped with all sorts of negative labels in that environment. Others might survive schoolwork, but they’re philosophically opposed to how school operates. Many of them do end up thriving in more serious academic environments or training programs, where most people attend by choice rather than coercion. I don’t think they’re so different from other young people, in the end. They’re smart in some ways and not in others. Unschoolers might have bigger gaps in their knowledge because no one forced them to follow a standard curriculum, but they’re also more experienced with rapidly filling in those gaps. Unschooling is about giving a young person lots of freedom combined with lots of responsibility. That’s the approach I take on my trips, at least.”

“Huh, okay. So you just take them on these travel adventures and let them wander around and learn stuff on their own? You don’t try to teach them anything?”

“Exactly. I did some organized travel programs when I was a teenager, and the parts I remembered most weren’t the organized ones, but the precious moments of free time where we got to figure things out for ourselves. So I decided to create trips that were mostly about free exploration. My co-leaders and I make sure that everyone has a safe place to sleep, gets fed, and feels emotionally supported. We have check-ins and a group meeting every night. That’s pretty much the recipe.”

“How do they discover your program?”

“I’m never entirely sure. I’ve written some books about unschooling and given talks for parents, and that certainly helps. Paid advertising doesn’t seem to work. No one else really offers trips like this. It probably helps to be the only fish in a small pond.”

“Huh, interesting.” The stranger rubs their chin. I take the opportunity to ask a bit about their travels, life back at home, their work.

Another overhead announcement blares, declaring that our bus will begin loading in 15 minutes, which means that in 5 minutes I’ll need to return to teen-wrangling mode.

Sensing that our time is limited, the stranger dives into a final round of questions.

“So, how did you get into this unschooling stuff in the first place? Were you homeschooled?”

“No, I went to regular public schools in California and got good grades, even if I felt bored most of the time. Then I went to college to study astronomy and physics, but I saw how the grad students mostly sat in their dark caves all day, when I wanted to be outside playing frisbee or working at camps with kids. So I thought about becoming a high school science teacher, which led me to start reading books that questioned the school system, and down the rabbit hole I went. I ended up designing my own bachelor’s degree in alternative education theory. After college I worked in outdoor ed for a bit, but that ended up feeling too school-ish. I ran away to South America, had my quarter-life crisis, and came back to the United States with the realization that I had to work for myself. That’s when I started Unschool Adventures.”

I notice that some of the teens are hovering now, eavesdropping on a conversation they’ve heard a few times before. One 15-year-old, all freckles and acne and wild hair and gender-ambiguity, quietly smiles and waves hi to the stranger. The stranger smiles and waves back.

“Okay, wow. So where do you live now?”

“I don’t really live anywhere. I mostly travel around and visit friends. Sometimes I’ll rent a room or small house for a while, but never longer than six months. That’s when I get antsy and want to explore again.”

“So you’re just constantly traveling around? Don’t you get tired?”

“If I were doing the short-term tourist thing all the time, I definitely would. But it’s more about circling back to visit the people and places I love for weeks or months at a time. My friends and family are scattered across the US and the world, so it actually doesn’t make sense to me to stay in one place.”

“What about relationships? Or starting a family? How do you imagine your fut—”

A final announcement interrupts. My teens start putting on their backpacks, and my co-leader throws me an eye. It’s time to go.

“One last question,” the stranger asks.✹

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[This piece was first published in Do What You Love and Die Trying.]

[The Unschool Adventures Gap Year Launchpad still has open space. Ages 18-21. June 9-19, 2025, in Brussels, Belgium.]