From the Archives.

When I first began this absurd adventure, I joined our local homeschooling association. One day, talking to someone in my usual ranting and rambling fashion about the million and one things I was now learning, someone asked me if I would "write something" for the newsletter about my experience.

Today, I found a copy of the old (edited) article, deep within the hard drive. Truly, it was in text format! As it turns out, it seems I've written something vaguely like an article at the beginning of each year since we began. We're now starting our fourth year.

Re-reading that first article, it was interesting to see that fresh frightened face through the lines on the screen: and so I thought I'd share. It's rather long, of course, especially for a blog entry. So grab a cuppa and some chocolate and begin to remember those early days with me. It was given its nifty title by the newsletter's editor:

New Paths, New Ways

This is an account of the adventure of our first twelve weeks of homeschooling. It’s not about curriculum, it’s not about what we do, and it’s not even about my son and daughter. No, it’s about me. In particular, it’s about what I’ve been learning about myself, my interactions with B-- and E---, our relationships, God, and our family.

In September, I packed my daughter off to kindergarten while my son and I sat down at the kitchen table. She wanted to go, and I wanted time alone with B--, to ease into this new experience. Being new and a bit unsure, I chose a classical curriculum based on The Well-Trained Mind by Jesse Wise and Susan Wise Baur. We did math, then phonics, grammar, spelling. He read to me, and then I read to him and asked for a narration page and a picture in return. We tried to do science twice a week. History, three times. But, the honeymoon wore off quickly. B-- had had three years in school: two years of kindergarten and one full year of grade one. He hadn’t enjoyed any of it except recess. I had read enough to know he needed some time to “unschool” - but that was what the summer was for, wasn’t it? Three weeks into our homeschooling adventure I found myself nagging him not to dawdle. B-- was resisting, passively, but resisting - and now, of course, he wasn’t just resisting school, but me!

Last spring, when I first began to investigate the idea of homeschooling, a friend (a homeschooler with grown kids) had warned me we weren’t ready to homeschool. I had had no idea what she meant. Now, I think I’m beginning to know.

I grew up the only child of a young, single, struggling, insecure parent. I had little respect for authority and challenged it at every turn. I only mention that because it means I don’t really have a lot of respect for my own authority over my children. I let them argue with me. I let them demand explanations. They can resist me at every turn and it is such a battle, I am often inconsistent.

Second, and far worse, was my attitude towards my kids. I was thirty-three before I married and had my first child...and having a family was a shock to my introspective, usually solitary self. My mother had mentioned homeschooling to me when B-- was still in diapers. “Homeschooling?” I had laughed derisively. “Homeschooling, me? No, I need my time to myself!” I gladly shipped my son off to Kindergarten, even though he didn’t want to go.

The next year, because he wasn’t “ready,” I followed the advice of his teacher and made him repeat it. If you know anything about the social hierarchy among children at school, there wasn’t anything worse I could have done to him. I deeply regret it, now. I should have just let him come home, of course. But I didn’t. As well, as a result of my selfishness, I let my kids become addicted to television. Their very presence overwhelmed me and I made efforts to create distance between us whenever I could. Do you see why my friend was right? During the month of September, I realized my kids were totally out of control and there was very little relationship to build upon.

This is the environment I brought my son home to, a place of never-ending conflict and bickering and inconsistent and unclear expectations. But now, we’re homeschooling. And homeschooling, I’m beginning to understand, has almost nothing to do with the kitchen table, and everything to do with everything else. As there is no longer any separation of “school” and “home” for my son, there is no separation of “mother” and “teacher” for me.

I’m not sure why this has taken until my son is eight years old to hit home so forcefully. Maybe it’s because I’m never “off” anymore. There is no “downtime.” If I’m lazy and procrastinate, that’s what he learns. If I give excuses, then he does too. If I wear myself to a frazzle cooking and baking for Thanksgiving and shoo the kids out of the kitchen at supper time because they are “in the way”--well, just what is that teaching them? My actions and non-actions and attitudes and beliefs and even my reading material will have an impact of some unknown measure on both my kids. This is, of course, a lesson of parenting, not homeschooling. But without having put ourselves in the pressure cooker of homeschooling, I may never have learned it until B-- and E---’s adolescence. And that’s too frightening to even think about!

In the midst of this awakening, God sent me some angels on the Internet. As part of a reply to an anguished plea someone quoted Marilyn Howshall:

".....God's initial goal for Christian homeschooling families is not the raising of godly children. Instead, God's wonderful, but subtly hidden agenda is that the homeschooling experience be so challenging for the parents that they feel the need and hunger for a closer walk with their heavenly Father."

And so it is. As a Christian, I believe that true change can only occur by the working of the Holy Spirit. But, thank God change is possible!

For starters, I began breaking our addiction to TV. I imposed a black out until 4:00 p.m.. As my daughter comes home from kindergarten at noon and there’s no one else to play with - the two of them have spent many, many afternoons outside just playing, riding their bikes around our cul-de-sac and petting every dog that passes by. They’ve mastered climbing the tree outside, set up and successfully hung a rope to swing on. They’ve become closer - real buddies.

Sometimes, I think no two children more different than each other could possibly exist as siblings. It is particularly gratifying to see the two of them build their relationship with each other. No doubt about it, I’ll be bringing E-- home next September. By then, I hope, our environment will be able to withstand the explosive forces of the two of them constantly in the same small house!

Like nothing else I’ve ever known, homeschooling gives us the chance to re-create our relationships with each other: healthier and happier ones. I have to stop yelling: he has to print neatly. I have to stop nagging: he has to dawdle a little less. I have wash the dishes every night so he can dry them and check it off the chore list. As I slowly, slowly, make the transition from being a parent in “coping” mode, from being the drill sergeant who must keep everyone on task and on time (and failing miserably) to being someone who gives direction and guidance, to someone who creates an environment of love and acceptance, I’m learning that context changes everything. I still expect obedience. But the means to this end now has time to change, to grow, to become the fruit of a relationship - not a command. Now that my eyes are opened, and I am taking the time to get to know my son, I am falling in love with him all over again.

It’s just like when he was first born and I was full of hopes and dreams as I smelled and nuzzled his baby sweetness. Now, he sits at the table beside me, swinging his legs, singing and talking to himself as he plays with his math manipulatives. I want to nag; instead, I try to take a deep breath. As I do, I catch a glimpse of what an incredible boy he is. He truly has the most amazing imagination! We’re homeschooling - and that means that once again I have hopes and dreams for him. As we struggle through the math, roll our eyes at the grammar lessons and read to each other, I’m praying, “What do you want me to do with this child for you, Lord?" It’s a completely different way of interacting, a completely different model of relationship. I am not just his mother, not just his teacher, but a servant of God, “training up my child[ren] in the way [they] should go.” (Proverbs 22:6)

So now, when we play a “math game” at the kitchen table after dinner, we’re not doing math: that’s the side benefit. As my husband reads a tale from the Arabian nights or one of Aesop’s fables to our son from one of his “school” books, they are discovering each other in new ways-ways a book about Spiderman or Ninja turtles couldn’t touch. (Though don’t tell them I know they still sneak in a few at bed-time!) No, the real purpose of homeschooling is to bring our family back together, God’s way. Right now, it’s still a huge learning curve. But finally we’ve turned down the right path. We’re learning what it takes to be a family.