Chapter Four: Never Say "Never"

This is huge. And simple. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. Don't even think it. Never.

Have I mentioned we are a home-school family? This probably conjures up all sorts of images. I know for me, I thought home-schooling was ludicrous. I remember rolling my eyes when people I knew decided they were going to home-school their kids. What were they thinking? Really? With little difficulty I would pass judgement and swear that I would never, never, never, never home-school my kids. I think I actually said one time, "I have NO time for that."
In my mind, there are certain kinds of people who home-school. And I am certainly not that kind. And there are certain people who claim to home-school and do no such thing. Unfortunately, I think our media latches on to the failures all too often. So our view of kids who are learning at home is skewed. I fell for the hype and planted my feet firmly in the camp of Anti-Home-School. I mean, how could kids who learn at home have any kind of social skills or opportunities for pursuing passions their parents deem as inappropriate or unimportant? Wouldn't those kids be short-changed and too sheltered? How would they learn that the whole world doesn't revolve around them? How would they learn how to take tests and acclimate into a university environment? And what makes these parents think they are qualified to teach their children anyway? I mean, come on people.

And, I am so not in to denim skirts and buns.

So there we have it. Never.

Never, never, never, never, never.

I was not one who desired kids. Kids fell into the group of things that I also had "no time for." I had this picture of myself, married, living a downtown life, doing what I pleased when I pleased. Odd how life works out. And even more of an oddity how life shifts and spins and shakes when a little dumpling pops in to your world and makes you a family, instantly. The fireman and I ran on adrenaline and love for the first few months and our conversations were serious and deep and searching. We relied on our instincts and faith as we parented our baby. We dreamed out loud, together, about what our life should look like and how we wanted our baby girl to see and experience the world. We longed for the day we would hear her first words and the thought of actually carrying on a conversation with her made us giddy. These were days of joy and innocence and dreams and love.

And as our family has changed and grown we have continued the conversations. The difference now is that these conversations must end with decisions, however difficult and dramatic. Our choice to try schooling Maggie at home came with much debate and anxiety. I felt totally incompetent and exhausted, unsure of how I would manage one more thing in my already packed days. I know some people close to us thought we were crazy and foolish and to be honest, I thought the same thing. I dragged my feet and made all the excuses. But, in the end, we evolved into a home-school family. Once again, we are following our instincts and taking steps in faith.
And I am not too proud to admit, the first few weeks were disastrous. Every fear and suspicion was confirmed as, day after day, both Maggie and I became more miserable. I felt tense and she could feel it. I began to dread the afternoons and she knew it. Her excitement soon turned to tears. As weeks turned in to months we began to question ourselves and second-guess our decision.
The fireman would fill in as tutor every so often. But his inability to relate to her level and intolerance for her unfocused and spastic behavior only left him despairing and angry. By the end of his turns, he was questioning if she had some serious learning disability or if she was dyslexic. I couldn't imagine where we would go from here. I felt like we had killed her spirit to learn and we would never be able to create a positive learning environment again. Our good intentions were just not enough to sustain any sort of momentum and I gradually slacked off until it was over. We were done. I couldn't handle it any more. I was tired of feeling frustrated with her and tired of making her feel like a failure.

What was wrong with us? We are relatively intelligent people. We love her and want the best for her. We know what school should look like. Why is this experience so dreadful and different from what we had envisioned? What is wrong with her?

Our Thanksgiving break turned in to a four month hiatus. When someone asked how school was going, I would smile and quickly try to change the subject. There were only a select few who knew the whole truth and how seriously we had failed Maggie. These friends would gently urge us forward, encouraging us to start again, slowly. Our enthusiasm needed to outweigh the information. School time needed to be brief and fun.
Luckily, in Kindergarten, there are few benchmarks to meet. She needed to know how to read. That's it. By the time we decided to jump back in, enough time had passed that I think she had forgotten the traumatic afternoons of the previous Fall. We switched reading curriculum and rewarded her with stickers for attention spans lasting longer than five minutes. She loves nature and art, so we centered the school time around being outside and cutting and pasting. She started feeling successful and I began to see progress. First Grade is just around the corner and our curriculum should arrive this week- and, who knows? Our school year just might start next week.

There are many, many reasons we home-school. I take great delight in seeing something "click" in her head. I love hearing her sing about feudalism and Hiroshima. I think it's amazing that she can find Turkmenistan and the Adriatic Sea on the globe. I think it is so cool that I can ask her when was the Renaissance Period and who came first in the Protestant Reformation, Martin Luther or John Calvin? I hang up her art work and wish I could keep it all. But aside from all of this, I love being with her. I love that I can see how and when she learns best. I want to answer her questions about how our world works and came to be. I can talk to her about integrity and responsibility and teach her how to crack an egg while singing the sixth chapter of Ephesians. I love that she asks me to do "school" now.
I do want to shelter her. I think her innocence and purity of heart and childhood are mine to protect. I think it's my job to know who her friends are and who her friend's parents are. I want to protect her from the ugliness and dangers of our world and as she matures, give her the skills and perspective to handle difficulties she will inevitably face. I want her to be courageous and wise. I want her to love her individuality and be comfortable with who she is and what she believes to be truth. The sweetness and wonder of youth is easily stolen and replaced with boredom and apathy and stress. This is why I am a home school mom.

I know it's not for everyone and I am definitely not advocating it as an obligation of all parents. My point is this: never say "never." You can't begin to foretell what will tumble and topple the things you think you know.