Half past nine in the morning. The big break is approaching in Swiss schools - and with it the bustle, shouting and chatter in the playgrounds. In the Gantenbein family's large kitchen, however, it is as quiet as a mouse. The three children sit at their desks and study. 11-year-old Nalin is making a belt rake for his tractor out of cardboard. He has drawn a sketch of what he wants it to look like. Olivia, 13, is working on index cards; she is learning Chinese with the help of a textbook and workbook. Her sister Sara, three years older, is writing her novel. She is already on page 98. She also loves and is busy learning languages: French, English and Spanish. Nalin, Olivia and Sara are unschoolers. They are neither sent to school nor taught at home. At least not in the traditional sense. Learning in a special context, or unschooling, means that the children learn what they are interested in, at that moment, on that day; without fixed lesson times, without defined learning materials or homework. "Children are little learning machines, they have the desire to learn within them from birth," says the mother, Doris Gantenbein, 43, but this is destroyed early on because parents, carers or teachers do not respect the child's inner life processes and believe that they have to influence the child from the outside and steer it in a certain direction. In this way, the child's innate enthusiasm for learning with joy is destroyed and the child enjoys learning less and less until it finally perceives learning as a compulsion.

Her husband Bruno, 57, works in a management consultancy and specialises in organisational development. "Schools focus on uniformity and standardisation, which is pretty much the opposite of our philosophy of life," he says. "Freedom and self-determination are values that are central to us." They have no place in a normal school day. In this respect, their decision not to send their children to school is only the logical consequence of their attitude to life. The core of their philosophy of life is "preserving the uniqueness that is inherent in every person and wants to express itself". "However, we didn't want to simply delegate our own core competences to an external school, but rather take responsibility for our children's education ourselves," write the Gantenbeins in their book (see box at the end of the text). "We also didn't want to simply send our children away, separate them from us and even wake them up every morning (...). That seemed contrary to nature to us."

They were also unaware that this type of education already existed - for example in the USA, where the educationalist John Holt founded unschooling in the 1970s. Nor did they realise that they had just bought a house in an education-friendly canton. In fact, in some Swiss cantons, such as Aargau or Appenzell Ausserrhoden, private schooling is possible but requires a licence. They are not completely exam-free: the children have to take tests every year, a kind of learning success measurement. They always complete these with "very good grades", says Doris.

In this country, the Gantenbeins are regarded as pioneers of free learning and also coach families who are interested in self-determined learning "and treating children with respect", as Doris says. Indeed, this lifestyle has a tiny but growing following. Bruno estimates that there are now fifty families in Switzerland, and just under ten in the Herisau area. Most of them are academics, artists, educated citizens who no longer want their children to be taught traditionally. Even former teachers like Doris Gantenbein herself are among them. She worked as a primary school teacher - and enjoyed being with children, as she says herself. "However, I quickly realised that the curriculum hardly allowed any room for the different individuals and that ultimately it was never about the child themselves, but always just about adhering to the curriculum," she says at the kitchen table, while Sara continues to write her novel, oblivious and focused. "Children are so different, have different talents and interests and simply don't all develop in the same way."

One of the many frustrating moments in her life as a teacher was when one of her pupils had to repeat a class because he had great difficulty with maths but was highly gifted in music. "That almost broke my heart," she recalls. After intensively researching alternative schools that work according to the principle of non-directive education, she and her husband came to the conclusion that they wanted to offer their future children a different kind of learning than that which takes place in state schools. The state school system restricts the child and focuses far too much on deficits rather than strengths, says Bruno Gantenbein. "Children lose the joy of learning, because who wants to spend three quarters of an hour swotting up on material prescribed by a teacher?" The standardised expectations, the system of rewards and punishments and the pointless pressure to perform were something they did not want to expose their children to. "We wanted our children to grow up in an integral consciousness, not in a purely mental consciousness as dictated by our society."

Mental consciousness is Bruno Gantenbein's reference to the studies of cultural anthropologist Jean Gebser. He sees a new age emerging in integral consciousness. In contrast to today's prevailing mental consciousness, which is lost in individualism, separation and mutual competition. "Our values are different," says Bruno Gantenbein. "Self-determination, creativity, serenity." In short: the Gantenbeins were of the opinion that school was not the right way and place for an "optimal learning biography" for their children. Bruno Gantenbein remembers his own school days as a tiresome compulsory exercise. "I preferred being outside". In his 20s, he became an unschooler himself: "Someone who listens to his intuition and follows it." He feels most comfortable in the company of artists and free spirits: "They go their own way and realise their dreams. They are whole people."

Even if they don't explicitly mention it, the family has had to put up with a lot of sceptical looks. It took a lot of courage to decide to buck the established system 14 years ago. "We were accused of pretty much everything, from religious to sectarian motives," says Bruno. He says this with the smile of all those who know what it's like to swim against the tide. Today, for example, grandparents really appreciate the fact that they can come and visit their grandchildren at any time because they don't have a tightly-scheduled daily routine. "They are always relieved when they see how much our children can already do," smiles Doris.

Nalin is frustrated. He has spent over an hour concentrating on his ribbon rake. But it just won't turn out the way he imagined. The eleven-year-old drops his work, displeasure on his face. His mum asks if she should help. Nalin has had enough and goes outside, rides around on the tractor and a little later is mowing the lawn in high spirits. He is meticulous, even trimming the edges around the plants meticulously with a hand mower that he bought himself with the money he earned doing small jobs in his friends' neighbourhood. In the meantime, Doris Gantenbein tries her hand at her son's project. "But mum, why are you doing this for Nalin?" asks Sara, "Can't he do it himself?" But it's really difficult fine motor work, her mum says, and she's happy to help him.

Doris Gantenbein is always there for her children, 24 hours a day. Does she even have time for a hobby, time for herself? "I don't need that," she says with an angelic smile. "The children, my family and the philosophy we live by are the source of my strength." When she needs time for herself, she gets up early in the morning, preferably when the others are still asleep. During these hours, she devotes herself to her own interests, reads, writes, does sport or does housework, "so that I can then be fully available for the children again". Getting up early is not an issue for Gantenbein's children. Wake up? They don't. Breakfast is usually eaten at half past seven. The children don't know bedtimes either. "They go to bed when they're tired," says the mum. And they are, because their day is packed with activities: from learning Chinese and Spanish to Sudoku, maths, crafts, drawing, trampolining, playing instruments, climbing, mowing the lawn, writing books and two to three hours of sport in the late afternoon. Bedtimes also depended a little on the seasons: "In summer, everyone is probably in their room between 9 and 10 pm, and earlier in winter," says Doris. They never had any trouble with the children not wanting to go to bed.

Sara will be 16 in November. She has already completed her compulsory schooling. What now? A very mundane question, as you can see from her parents' reaction. "Sara has to figure out what she wants to do now," says her father. "We're giving her time and have no expectations." He is sure that the children will make their own way. "It always takes a lot of trust and patience," says Doris Gantenbein. "But we don't think in terms of school years, we look at the person." Sara's favourite thing to do is figure skating. But Sara can also imagine doing her A-levels. The argument that she is wasting valuable time doesn't hold water with the Gantenbeins. "Sara studies from early in the morning until late at night," explains her mum. "Grades and certificates are becoming less and less important, they are not an indication of talent." At least that is already the case in many large companies. The father is convinced that holistic children are hired "with a kiss on the hand", precisely because they don't simply follow a predetermined path. "The founder of Apple, Steve Jobs, and all the famous people who have made a difference in this world were not people who blindly followed the mainstream." Critics of unschooling say that primary school is not just about acquiring education. By socialising with their peers, children also learn to deal with other lifestyles. Isn't that why they want to give it a try? "I hear enough from my friends, neighbours' children and pen pals about how things are going at school," says Sara, "and that doesn't sound very appealing."

Her brother Nalin puts it this way: "School is stupid. At least that's what my colleagues say. You always have to do what the teacher says." Olivia, the shyest, enjoys her life without school because she "simply has time for everything that really interests me". The children have lots of friends. "Many of them think it's cool that I never had to go to school. I met most of my friends through my hobbies. We sometimes go into town or to the cinema together," says Sara. In the meantime, it's dinnertime. The Gantenbeins' concept of freedom also means that no animals should suffer for their well-being. That's why they eat an exclusively vegan diet at home. But today the children don't like mum's food as much as usual because the oven has broken down and the potato gratin - Sara's favourite dish - isn't as creamy. It's the first (and last) time the children turn up their noses that day. "An exceptional situation," Doris Gantenbein will say later. "Our mealtimes are always extremely peaceful and harmonious."

Unschooling is child-led learning in the children's normal home and living environment, together with their parents or close carers, without any attempt to imitate traditional schools and their curricula. There are no scheduled lessons or specific times for school-like activities. Topics are covered when the child's interest demands it. Parents are not so much teachers as supporters and companions. www.pro-lernen.ch