In The Beginning: The Backstory

The year was 2005.

My daughter was just about to start kindergarten.


My son was just finishing Grade One in a french immersioan public school. I have absolutely no idea how he was doing academically--I don't speak French. Socially, though, the situation was terrible. My son had had two years of kindergarden at that school, (left back because of emotional maturity issues) and K2 as we had called it had been brutal. His "friends" had turned on him and ridicules him for being a kindergartener. I had wantd to give it another year before making any decisions. (He had found one truly great boy for a friend and I didn't want to disrupt him from that relationship.)

I started reading about homeschooling and the more I read, the more I wanted it. Web sites from other Christians promised I'd have greater guidence over the children's spiritual life. Other homeschooling moms on message boards assured me we could take our time and my children could learn at their own pace, in their own way. If he struggled, help would be right at hand and not diverted by the challenge of keeping 30 children on task. I read John Taylor Gatto. His works made a huge impression on me. I read Laura Berquist and from there, the Well-Trained Mind. I read about the theories and philosophy of Charlotte Mason. I went to a homeschooling conference where hundreds of parents were trying the same thing....and I saw hundreds and hundreds of books. Wonderful books. Books I would be able to share with my children if we homeschooled. And I wanted that. I wanted it all.

I lamented the fact we didn't live on a farm. It's the ideal place to learn personal responsibility and the fact that everyone must contribute to the family for its survival. But, though a poor substitute, I did give them their own household chores.

Beguiled by the promises implicit in homeschooling, I thought I would be able to educate my children to pick wholesome, engaging books and entertainments. I thought they would be kind and generous and cheerful. I envisioned evenings reading books or playing games happily together. And, of course, they would learn to read, write and do their figures. They would learn to reason and argue well.

And so, then I began reading about educational philosophies and curriculum guidelines and courses of study and math programmes and so on and so on. I knew I wanted an academic curriculum. I wanted the intellectuall rigour and discipline it promised. No child-centered studies for us. No "unschooling" here, no substitution of the sacred cows of learning for a progressive education*. Besides, the former approach, unlike the latter, is consistent with my parenting philosophy, which is, in the words of one syllable: "I'm the boss."

And so we began.

*According to Diane Ravitch in Left Back, (Simon and Shuster, 2000) Harl R. Douglass, a leading progressive educator disapargingly referred to academic studies as the "Sacred Cow" curriculum in Secondary Education for Life Adjustment of American Youth