This is part three of an eight-part series. Read the other parts here…

I started getting enthusiastic about the idea of unschooling when I was 16 or 17, and I actually met other unschoolers in real life for the first time when I was 17 and went to Not Back to School Camp. I think I expected everything to change instantly: that I’d magically become more outgoing and make a ton of new friends in one fell swoop, and I was a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. But I did really like the atmosphere of camp, and I did make some new, tentative friendships. And as I continued to make my way into the unschooling community by going to a couple of conferences with my mother and sister, and going to Not Back to School Camp again the next year, I started realizing that, slowly but surely, I was making quite a few friends. I found myself keeping in touch with those friends, even though they lived far away, and gaining a hell of a lot of confidence along the way.

I learned that maybe I was someone worth being friends with, after all, and I learned that there were a lot of unschoolers I very much wanted to get to know better.

Now, the unschooling community isn’t the only one I feel I need in my life: I was rather surprised when I first started going to unschooling events by how non-radical many unschoolers are. I guess I’d assumed that because questioning the schooling system lead me to questioning so much else, that that would be the experience of others, as well. And it is! Just not as many others as maybe I’d first thought. This isn’t meant in any way as a criticism, just an honest reflection of my thoughts. Regardless, the people I choose to surround myself with now are unschoolers, anarchists, radicals, queers, hippies, pagans, and other odd folk. And I’m using “odd” here in the most complementary sense possible!

Everyone will feel pulled to find different communities, but all of us do need community.

It’s the finding of it that can be difficult.

Now, I should make it clear what I’m actually talking about when I speak of community. I suppose, though the word community can encompass a huge range of things, I think of three primary meanings. First, your physical, immediate community: your neighbors, the local events you attend, the people you see around you daily. Secondly, a community composed of like-minded people that you specifically seek out: an education community, whether that means unschooling, homeschooling, school, or something else; people who share your political beliefs: people who share a specific interest or passion; a religious or spiritual community… And thirdly, community based on personal identity: sexual orientation, gender identity, racial identity, physical ability…

Everyone belongs to multiple different communities, though because the world isn’t divided neatly and sectioned off into separate areas, I’m sure most people’s communities overlap and bleed into each other to some extent.

The first type of community, that of the physical one, is probably the easiest to find, though I imagine it’s also often the hardest to connect with: it’s people in that first category I have the hardest time dealing with!

But what I want to discuss now is like-minded community, that oh-so-elusive, yet oh-so-important thing.

I wish there was a road-map of sorts, or a guidebook, or something else that gave neat instructions: How to Find and/or Build Meaningful Community in 10 Easy Steps! But since there isn’t, we’re each left to figure things out for ourselves, to find the paths, through trial and error, that work best, based on our own unique geographic locations, personalities, and circumstances.

Since I found a more wide-spread unschooling community a few years ago—a community that I have so many terrific friends in, and that has had such a positive impact on my life—I find my focus shifting to the areas where community in my own life is still, I feel, lacking. A community of those who hold similar radical political beliefs to me, and/or a local community of like-minded folk.

And I’m making serious progress. I’ve been involved with the sometimes-active freedom-based education community in Montreal for a couple of years now. I’m continually meeting cool new people in my home city, and when I go to interesting workshops and events, I find myself happily greeting multiple other attendees.

As with everything in life, I keep expecting results to be instant. But as with most things in life, things aren’t instant. Growth, be it personal or on a community level, happens slowly, through care and nurturing, reaching out and being open to new people and possibilities, overcoming obstacles and personal barriers.

All my personal communities are ever-growing, but as I learned this past spring when I finally planted some veggies after years of wanting to, as excited as I am about the shoots poking out of the ground, leaves unfurling, vines climbing and peas swelling, growth happens on it’s own schedule, and can’t be forced no matter how much I wish otherwise.

This is part three of our eight-part series, Week of the Idzie. Read the full series here.

This essay originally was part of a keynote speech Idzie gave at the 2011 Toronto Unschooling Conference.