Homeschooling - How the heck did I get here? Part 1
My Backstory:
I think I swore at numerous times in my life I was never going to do this. Homeschooling. I grew up in the eighties in a pretty conservative and devout evangelical family. Don't stop reading if that's not your cup of tea. In the eighties, homeschoolers, from my perception were homeschooling to protect their children from the world, to teach them Christian curriculum instead of what the evil public schools were teaching. And my parents were dedicated public school teachers. Good ones. Who loved and invested in their students. Pulling all the good kids out of public school and homeschooling them or putting them into a Christian school seemed completely counterintuitive to the Christian worldview I'd been taught. We were supposed to be the salt and light, to be in the world but not of the world. Why would the Christians pull their kids out of school?
Growing up I looked at my parents as missionaries on the front lines of our own community, loving people from right here where we are by investing in and teaching the kids from our community. Not about God, but about being good loving humans. About kindness, leadership, enjoying the journey you are on and a few other assorted things such as reading and math. My dad was P.E. and Activities Director for the local middle school and my mom a reading specialist along with a hospital/home teacher employed by the district to individually teach kids with cancer and other things that prevented them from being in a traditional classroom environment. Teachers were local heroes.
That being said, I had some pretty rocky times in public school myself. I was not homeschooled. But I didn't have a lot of close friends at public school or at church. A couple friends here and there, but generally each time I made a close connection with another student their family moved across the country after a year, or we just changed and drifted. I had a best friend in 1st grade who moved in 2nd. I had a best friend my freshman year who moved the summer after. School felt pretty lonely to me.
Still, I got involved. In high school I was the school mascot, a newspaper editor, the voice behind the announcements over the loudspeaker every morning, and the person who designed and made nearly every banner that the football team ran thru on their way onto the field. But I spent most lunches of my senior year sitting by myself behind the cheer building because I didn't really have a depth of connection with anyone. I was a peripheral friend. Not bullied but not invited. I was a bit of a loner. I'd spend a lunch in the library, then a lunch in the newspaper office, then a lunch behind the cheer building. School felt like a necessary evil to get thru so you could become an adult and leave all this behind.
I worked hard to do well in school academically. Not studying or skipping homework was never an option that even occurred to me. I worked hard to get good grades, and this carried some anxiety with it. My freshman year I will never forget the amount of stress pulsating through me as a made the decision to drop out of an honors history class into a (gasp, wait for it) regular history class. The homework was taking me hours a night, I was a wreck about test grades below an A. but after weeks of stress and anxiety from the high work load I remember turning in the honors history book to the teacher and as I walked out of the classroom him announcing to the entire class, "Well, you will see her picking strawberries over in the fields soon enough. Anyone else want to leave the honors program?"
Mr. Bell was the exception to my teacher experiences. Most teachers were kind, intentional, dedicated to the field they had chosen. They let me eat lunch in their classroom and asked me about myself. When I look back at high school the conversations I most remember are with my economics teacher Mrs. Watkins who took a genuine interest in my life. She would give me books she had come across that she thought I'd enjoy, paid for from her personal funds. I remember starting to follow the 49ers because that was her sports team. The teachers were my friends. Part of what pulled me through that season.
So I guess you can say I have mixed emotions about public school. Part of it I adored and even venerated and parts of it still feel painfully lonely to think about. We all are a product of our stories, and I am sure that while I want to say that my reasons for beginning to homeschool are completely based on what I think is best for my kids right now, I recognize part of what I think is best for my children is shaped by my own history. So. Disclaimer made.
I think why I want to say this is to say I really love and appreciate you who are in the trenches as public school teachers and administrators who are giving it your all. The teachers my girls have had have been so kind, so invested, so loving, so talented and intentional. It's one of my homeschooling mom fears I'm not going to live up to the big shoes you've left for me to fill. You are and have been phenomenal teachers.
So, to all the teachers, out there: To you who see each kid in their classroom for the depth of who they are. They walk into your classroom in the morning and have to tell you about the new fairy garden they made last night and how they lost a tooth and their sister still hasn't and you smile and engage them each as if it is the most intriguing thing you have ever heard. And they want to learn everything you teach them because they know you love them. To you.
To those wonderful teachers who somehow know how to manage a whole classroom of kids when sometimes I am surprised I managed to get myself out the doors with my two. Who come to see students perform at out of school events and who write the nicest thank you notes for inviting them to the event. Even though you were the one who was giving us a gift by being there. And who invite our kids to their pool complex in the summer and keep tutoring them even after you've retired.
To those teachers who loop their classes so that they build depth of relationship with their students and have them two years in a row. Who see our kids for their greatest strengths and help them grow even more in those strengths. Who know how to control a whole classroom without raising their voice. Who smile at our kids when they wave at you while you're part of the living nativity at the local Christmas festival.
To you who give of their own time to spearhead a speech and debate team of fourth and fifth grades and then proceed to give up weekends to chaperone them to events and help them find confidence and their individual voice. You dye your beard funny colors and smile and kids who aren't ever in your class wish they were.
To the teachers at the middle school level who take the time to write me an email and say how much they are enjoying having my daughter work with the special needs kids in her class and how she could see her having a vocation similar to your own. Who teach our lanky middle schoolers to dance and help them develop grace and poise in a life stage can fell damn awkward. Who see that my student is working hard even though they know she is struggling and try to help make modifications.
To the teachers who team up to take on a group of sixth graders with all their angsty-ness and insecurities and help them go from an elementary school student to a student ready for middle school. Who come to school dressed as Wonderwoman or Luna Lovegood or as a giant banana (I'm guessing that was sex ed week? Or maybe you were showing Arrested Development in class that week? Oh is that not part of the sixth grade curriculum?) But really, you teach them how to study and how to deal with bullies and people who make inappropriate banana jokes. And you buy them books you think they'd love with your own money like Ms. Watkins used to do for me. And you ask about who they are. And what they want to do with their lives. And they love you so much that they want to call you their Auntie when they are no longer in your class because you have become like family to us.
To those of you who have researched after your normal working hours ways to help my kids succeed. How to help my kids find their true potential. Who give of themselves and their energy and personal resources over and over.
As I said, part of me is nervous that there is no way I can fill the role you've had in my child's life. But I'm flipping inspired by you and I'm going to give it a go and see if I can reflect the depth of love and encouragement and inspiration you've shown my kids as I get the honor of being their teacher for this season. I'm humbled to join the ranks of human I stand with by by becoming my daughters' teacher.
(cue Chicago's: You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration)
It takes a village, and you've been part of ours and you are always welcome in our home for a cup of coffee, a contortion performance by Paige or a glass (or bottle) of wine at the end of your day.
And to the grandparents, neighbors, coworkers friends and family who we get even more chances to spend intentional time with in this season of homeschooling, thank you for being my daughters teachers too. Their conversations with you, the adventures we get to take with you the meals we share with you are all part of teaching them and I am thankful for you too.
I think I swore at numerous times in my life I was never going to do this. Homeschooling. I grew up in the eighties in a pretty conservative and devout evangelical family. Don't stop reading if that's not your cup of tea. In the eighties, homeschoolers, from my perception were homeschooling to protect their children from the world, to teach them Christian curriculum instead of what the evil public schools were teaching. And my parents were dedicated public school teachers. Good ones. Who loved and invested in their students. Pulling all the good kids out of public school and homeschooling them or putting them into a Christian school seemed completely counterintuitive to the Christian worldview I'd been taught. We were supposed to be the salt and light, to be in the world but not of the world. Why would the Christians pull their kids out of school?
Growing up I looked at my parents as missionaries on the front lines of our own community, loving people from right here where we are by investing in and teaching the kids from our community. Not about God, but about being good loving humans. About kindness, leadership, enjoying the journey you are on and a few other assorted things such as reading and math. My dad was P.E. and Activities Director for the local middle school and my mom a reading specialist along with a hospital/home teacher employed by the district to individually teach kids with cancer and other things that prevented them from being in a traditional classroom environment. Teachers were local heroes.
That being said, I had some pretty rocky times in public school myself. I was not homeschooled. But I didn't have a lot of close friends at public school or at church. A couple friends here and there, but generally each time I made a close connection with another student their family moved across the country after a year, or we just changed and drifted. I had a best friend in 1st grade who moved in 2nd. I had a best friend my freshman year who moved the summer after. School felt pretty lonely to me.
Still, I got involved. In high school I was the school mascot, a newspaper editor, the voice behind the announcements over the loudspeaker every morning, and the person who designed and made nearly every banner that the football team ran thru on their way onto the field. But I spent most lunches of my senior year sitting by myself behind the cheer building because I didn't really have a depth of connection with anyone. I was a peripheral friend. Not bullied but not invited. I was a bit of a loner. I'd spend a lunch in the library, then a lunch in the newspaper office, then a lunch behind the cheer building. School felt like a necessary evil to get thru so you could become an adult and leave all this behind.
I worked hard to do well in school academically. Not studying or skipping homework was never an option that even occurred to me. I worked hard to get good grades, and this carried some anxiety with it. My freshman year I will never forget the amount of stress pulsating through me as a made the decision to drop out of an honors history class into a (gasp, wait for it) regular history class. The homework was taking me hours a night, I was a wreck about test grades below an A. but after weeks of stress and anxiety from the high work load I remember turning in the honors history book to the teacher and as I walked out of the classroom him announcing to the entire class, "Well, you will see her picking strawberries over in the fields soon enough. Anyone else want to leave the honors program?"
Mr. Bell was the exception to my teacher experiences. Most teachers were kind, intentional, dedicated to the field they had chosen. They let me eat lunch in their classroom and asked me about myself. When I look back at high school the conversations I most remember are with my economics teacher Mrs. Watkins who took a genuine interest in my life. She would give me books she had come across that she thought I'd enjoy, paid for from her personal funds. I remember starting to follow the 49ers because that was her sports team. The teachers were my friends. Part of what pulled me through that season.
So I guess you can say I have mixed emotions about public school. Part of it I adored and even venerated and parts of it still feel painfully lonely to think about. We all are a product of our stories, and I am sure that while I want to say that my reasons for beginning to homeschool are completely based on what I think is best for my kids right now, I recognize part of what I think is best for my children is shaped by my own history. So. Disclaimer made.
I think why I want to say this is to say I really love and appreciate you who are in the trenches as public school teachers and administrators who are giving it your all. The teachers my girls have had have been so kind, so invested, so loving, so talented and intentional. It's one of my homeschooling mom fears I'm not going to live up to the big shoes you've left for me to fill. You are and have been phenomenal teachers.
So, to all the teachers, out there: To you who see each kid in their classroom for the depth of who they are. They walk into your classroom in the morning and have to tell you about the new fairy garden they made last night and how they lost a tooth and their sister still hasn't and you smile and engage them each as if it is the most intriguing thing you have ever heard. And they want to learn everything you teach them because they know you love them. To you.
To those wonderful teachers who somehow know how to manage a whole classroom of kids when sometimes I am surprised I managed to get myself out the doors with my two. Who come to see students perform at out of school events and who write the nicest thank you notes for inviting them to the event. Even though you were the one who was giving us a gift by being there. And who invite our kids to their pool complex in the summer and keep tutoring them even after you've retired.
To those teachers who loop their classes so that they build depth of relationship with their students and have them two years in a row. Who see our kids for their greatest strengths and help them grow even more in those strengths. Who know how to control a whole classroom without raising their voice. Who smile at our kids when they wave at you while you're part of the living nativity at the local Christmas festival.
To you who give of their own time to spearhead a speech and debate team of fourth and fifth grades and then proceed to give up weekends to chaperone them to events and help them find confidence and their individual voice. You dye your beard funny colors and smile and kids who aren't ever in your class wish they were.
To the teachers at the middle school level who take the time to write me an email and say how much they are enjoying having my daughter work with the special needs kids in her class and how she could see her having a vocation similar to your own. Who teach our lanky middle schoolers to dance and help them develop grace and poise in a life stage can fell damn awkward. Who see that my student is working hard even though they know she is struggling and try to help make modifications.
To the teachers who team up to take on a group of sixth graders with all their angsty-ness and insecurities and help them go from an elementary school student to a student ready for middle school. Who come to school dressed as Wonderwoman or Luna Lovegood or as a giant banana (I'm guessing that was sex ed week? Or maybe you were showing Arrested Development in class that week? Oh is that not part of the sixth grade curriculum?) But really, you teach them how to study and how to deal with bullies and people who make inappropriate banana jokes. And you buy them books you think they'd love with your own money like Ms. Watkins used to do for me. And you ask about who they are. And what they want to do with their lives. And they love you so much that they want to call you their Auntie when they are no longer in your class because you have become like family to us.
To those of you who have researched after your normal working hours ways to help my kids succeed. How to help my kids find their true potential. Who give of themselves and their energy and personal resources over and over.
As I said, part of me is nervous that there is no way I can fill the role you've had in my child's life. But I'm flipping inspired by you and I'm going to give it a go and see if I can reflect the depth of love and encouragement and inspiration you've shown my kids as I get the honor of being their teacher for this season. I'm humbled to join the ranks of human I stand with by by becoming my daughters' teacher.
(cue Chicago's: You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration)
It takes a village, and you've been part of ours and you are always welcome in our home for a cup of coffee, a contortion performance by Paige or a glass (or bottle) of wine at the end of your day.
And to the grandparents, neighbors, coworkers friends and family who we get even more chances to spend intentional time with in this season of homeschooling, thank you for being my daughters teachers too. Their conversations with you, the adventures we get to take with you the meals we share with you are all part of teaching them and I am thankful for you too.
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