Clarifying a Few Things

A few days ago I published a post that provoked a strong reaction.  While I didn't find it to be a particularly polarizing post, I struck a an unexpected chord.  When discussing the post with a dear friend, she wisely pointed out that posts involving personal choice usually are the most polarizing.  Because I feel like what I was trying to intimate was misunderstood, I wanted to clarify what my post was and what it was not.

My post, which can be accessed here (the phrase "confined in a classroom taking standardized tests" was edited out of the original after thinking about how harsh it sounded), was intended to be an expression of gratitude.  I've alluded to this in earlier posts, but those who've heard my story about deciding to home school will understand why I feel so grateful.  My daughter attended public school in kindergarten.  This coincided with my needing to go back to work because my husband's job in the construction industry had been hit hard by the crash in the housing market.  My son was only two at the time, so I knew I couldn't go back to work full-time; I decided to begin my own business.  Before I knew it, I found myself working almost 40 hours a week, mostly on evenings and weekends.  So, our normal day began with me dropping my daughter off at school at 7:20, picking her up around 2:45, working on any reading or worksheets she had been assigned before I rushed off to work from 4-9:30, and my husband rushed home to take over our evening routine.  Many weekends were also spent working much of the day, as well.  Our afternoons were rushed, leaving very little opportunity for my daughter and me to have moments like the ones I described in my controversial post, and often culminated with my daughter and me sitting in a puddle of shared tears.

Three months into this schedule, I visited my doctor for a routine check-up, where he simply asked how I was doing and I erupted into a sob that lasted at least forty-five minutes.  When I finally found myself able to coherently mutter a sentence, I explained my stressful new schedule.  He prescribed anti-depressants, and while these kept me more sane, I still found myself on the brink of what I can only describe as a near-nervous breakdown.  I teetered dangerously on the edge of full-scale depression.  I desperately needed to spend time with my sweet girl, but I also needed to establish a fledgling small business.  I realized I didn't simply need a prescription, I needed a change.  That April, I tutored a student for ACT.  Her confidence and sense of self captured my attention.  When I asked where she attended school, I discovered she had been home schooled her entire life and was preparing to graduate early. This piqued my interest in home schooling.  When summer finally arrived, my husband and I sat down to evaluate our options, and I believe God answered desperate prayers by opening the door to homeschooling.

Prior to my daughter starting school, it had never occurred to me that homeschooling was an option.  I didn't realize that anything other than the traditional public or private school option was a possibility.  That summer, I read every book I could find on the topic.  I called the parents of students I had tutored who where home schooled.  I prayed and prayed and prayed and finally, my husband and I decided this fit our family perfectly.  For the first time in a year, I finally felt a sense of peace.  I was astonished to discover that, as a parent, I had an actual choice in how my child could be educated, and the possibilities that lay before us were wonderful and endless.  Our children's schooling could fit our family's personality and lifestyle, and I could continue a fulfilling career of working with children from public, private, and home schools in a career that I felt was, in its own way, a ministry.  While our first year of home schooling proved challenging, it didn't compare to the previous year, which honestly had been one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  My daughter loved our new routine, and our relationship began to resemble the mother/daughter relationship I had always envisioned.

So, last week, as I spent a relaxing morning with my daughter, (a morning that had followed a particularly difficult day of homeschooling) before I went to work that evening, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.  If we had continued the pace we kept when A was in public school, that moment would not have existed.  I would have missed this opportunity with my girl, and I just wanted to express what a gift homeschooling has been for our family.  It has literally been a God-send.

I have always wanted to write about home schooling, but I've been afraid that anything positive I say will be misconstrued as an attack on public education or on parents who send their children to public or private schools, so I've kept quiet, only posting a few times a year details about our journey, but home schooling is such a part of my life and I'm such a proponent of the freedom it offers parents, that I want to write about it more often, so I wanted to clarify my position on a few things.  Not that my position matters, but I want it to be fairly represented in comments.

Now, what the post was not. That post was not was an attack on parents who choose public schooling for their children nor did it imply that public school parents care less about their child's education than I do mine. Those who truly know me understand that is absurd.  Most of my friends choose public school, and I know they care deeply about their child's education.  They are at the library choosing books to enrich their child's interest; they are seeking camps to enhance their child's education; they are at the school volunteering at any available opportunity.  I love and respect each of them and their individual choice to choose what educational method best fits their family's needs.

I celebrate that we live in a country that allows parents to choose the educational model that best fits their individual family's needs. One person's choice for public or private or home school does not mean it is a condemnation of someone else's choice.  I think we need to let go of the idea that there is only one correct way to educate our children.  Parenting is difficult, and what we need is to support and encourage each other, as long as our choices are not immoral or dangerous.  The Bible doesn't say much in particular about educational methods but Proverbs tells parents to "train up a child in the way he should go," Deuteronomy 6 admonishes us to "impress the commands of God upon our children, to talk about them as we sit at home and walk along the road," and Psalm 78 says that "[God] decreed his statutes and established the law...which He commanded our ancestors to teach their children, so the next generation would know them." But the Bible does have a lot to say about the way we respect, encourage, and treat each other, even if we disagree.

It seems so much divides us as moms:  working vs. stay-at-home, public-private vs. home school, classical vs. unschooling, etc. When we remember that what brings us together is a deep desire to do what is best for our families in a way that honors God, we seek to understand one another and stop attacking each other for following the path we feel led by the Holy Spirit to follow.  I, for one, am guilty of casting judgment before I hear all the facts or of allowing stereotypes or preconceived notions to cloud my discernment.  I tend to see all of the world in definitive shades of black and white and do not always practice grace the way I am called by Christ to do.  The anonymity of the Internet also allows us to angrily throw out a comment without forcing us to claim ownership; this simply stifles any meaningful dialogue or useful debate that could be used to improve educational choices in all arenas.  "We have different gifts according to the grace given each of us," and I think that extends to the way we run our households.

Another thing my post was not:  It was not an attack on public schools or teachers.  I love teachers.  I am a teacher.  My sisters, cousins, and closest friends are teachers.  What I am not loving is the trend toward more centralized, federal control of schools, where most of the important decisions about curriculum are stripped from the parents and teachers and are, instead, made by bureaucrats.  I do not like the trend of an increased emphasis on standardized testing and performance-driven education.  I am not happy with top-level-down decision making, where teachers, who should be respected as professionals are given less and less control to practice what they understand are best practices in their classroom.  I resent the lack of control parents are given in the type of education their child receives in school.  In fact, the number one factor for determining whether a child scores well on the ACT or SAT is not how many hours he/she spent preparing, it is whether or not the student was read to throughout childhood.  Parents are critical to educational success whether it takes place in a school, church, or home.  I am a proponent of parent and teacher empowerment in education, and I see that power being stripped.  Few true community schools remain.

While I know there are amazing public schools, where parents make all the difference, there are schools that are failing our children, parents, and teachers.  I earned my Master's degree in education and taught in the public schools.  One of the rudest awakenings was the inability to put into practice all of the wonderful methods I was taught in graduate school.  The reality was 29-30 seventh graders crammed into a classroom, where in one period, I had both my highest achieving students and almost all of my students who had an IEP, not to mention other wonderful boys and girls who fell in the middle.  No matter how well I taught, there were students who were bored, who were lost, or who were distracted by the sheer number of students in the class.  I loved my job, despite the challenges, and I dedicated my heart and soul to teaching, even starting an after-school reading club for my struggling readers.  I did this for no additional pay, volunteering my time to do whatever I could to assist my students and parents.  I did this because I loved my students and their parents and my profession.  I only left the profession, briefly, to focus on my own family and quickly returned to education by volunteering with a program that assists at-risk readers in city schools. My current career is dedicated to helping students who often slip through the cracks of the educational system, while also teaching classes at a home school co-op.  I do not approach this topic as an educational outsider.  The implication that I, and other home schoolers, have turned our backs on public education is absurd and hurtful.  We've chosen the path we feel is best for our family while seeking to find solutions that improve education for all children.

I am not against public school, but I would be lying if I said that I didn't see troubling trends.  I am not the only person concerned.  The Washington Post recently published an article from a kindergarten teacher who sees a disturbing change in educational goals.  The link to her article is here.  My public school teacher friends and I often discuss concerns we see but also discuss the remarkable opportunities that exist, as well.  I am pro-family, pro-quality education, and pro-child.  I believe the goal of education isn't graduation nor is it a good job at the end of a successful run in college.  I believe the goal is to nurture the whole child and like the classical educators whose model was followed for centuries: to strengthen one's mind, body, and character in order to develop the ability to learn anything, to pursue truth, goodness, and beauty and to develop wisdom (The Core p. 35).

While I was stunned by some of the comments left on my post, I absolutely understand where the author was coming from, especially if she felt attacked, but I feel she misunderstood my intention and position, just as I hope I misunderstood some of the implications about home schooling families mentioned in her post.  I have dedicated my career and essentially, my life, to education.  While my family has chosen a path that works with our educational goals, personality, educational philosophy, and lifestyle, I respect the choices made by other parents to do what works best for their families.  I praise God for the freedom to choose.  Two years after our decision to home school, my children are thriving.  I will not apologize for writing about the amazing benefits that homeschooling offers so many families, nor the sometimes difficult realities of home schooling, and I feel this blog is a place where those who have questions, where those who are willing to openly and respectfully debate education, and where those who are looking for encouragement or inspiration can visit without fear of judgment or condescension.  I pray that my writing will be filled with grace, though I can't promise that will always be the case, since I'm so fallibly human.  I ask my readers to extend that same grace.  Together, as parents and teachers, we can work for meaningful, positive educational experiences for all of our children.

Morning Musings

A slows her pedal stroke to match my running cadence.  "Mommy, who was your best friend when you were a little girl?'

"My cousin, Leslie," I blurt breathlessly, winded from trying to keep up with a bicycle.

She wrinkles her nose and responds, "Your cousin was your best friend?  Did you have friends who weren't part of your family?"  I sense her concern that her mom merely survived childhood as a lovable loser who could only find friendly companionship among those obligated to love me.

"Yes," I manage.  "I....also....had...a best friend....named....Hallie...in school."  Each word spoken between gulps of air.

Oblivious to my inability to run at bike pace and maintain an actual conversation, A continues to chat about best friends, earrings, and whatever else comes to mind.  She grows tired of talking with someone whose responses sound more like they're coming from a beached fish, so she picks up speed and rides ahead. The trees on the trail bend gracefully over the path creating an archway of green.  Rays of sun filter through the leaves, illuminating a small field of wildflowers and highlighting my daughter's blond hair as it streams behind her.  I seriously expect Tinkerbell to zoom by on her way to Pixie Hollow.  Suddenly, I find myself breathless, once again, not from the running but from the gift that pedals gracefully before me, and even though my side aches and I physically can't get enough air into my lungs to qualify as breath, I treasure this moment.

A and I make it to the last mile of our four mile loop.  "Mom, can we sit on that bench for a moment?"  She nods her head toward a worn, wooden park bench, aged by the rain and sun.  "Sure," I respond casually fighting the urge to shout, "Yes!  For the love, yes!"  After three miles of sprinting behind a bicycle, I can no longer feel my toes or the tips of my fingers. Instead, I say, "we can work on multiplication and spelling."   She removes her bike helmet, checks for bugs, then sits.  I join her.  "Wow!  Did you feel the bench bend when you sat? I hope it can hold us."  Apparently, I need to participate in more sprinting.  I laugh at her candor, clearly inherited that from her father.  We review our 2s through 4s and her spelling words from the last few weeks.  A decides to run a loop on the small path to help her think of the answers.  I ask a question, she runs and returns with the correct answer.  This continues until she tires.

When she begins to ask a question unrelated to math or spelling every time I attempt to recap a phonics rule, I realize she's had enough, so we begin to chat.  A grabs my hand as she talks, signaling that though she's grown three inches in a year and has begun to use phrases like "boyfriend", that she is still my little girl.  I watch her closely as she talks, her innocent blue eyes mirroring the crystal sky, a smattering of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. The frenetic pressure of a schedule eludes us, as we relax beneath a grove of towering pines and sycamores and watch a line of ants carry their treasures across the path.  I dazzle A with my knowledge of the tiny insects, "I think ants can carry like 50 times their weight or something crazy like that.  What do you say we look it up when we get home?"  And birds, "What kind of bird is that, Mommy?"  "Um, a little one.  It's not a robin, cardinal or blue jay.  We'll get a book on birds at the library and maybe set up a bird feeder.  That would be fun!"

Thirty minutes pass before we both agree it's time to finish our workout.  Plus, the feeling has returned to my hands and feet, so it is probably also now safe for me to run again.  I relieve the bench of its burden and make my way over to help A fasten her helmet.  Part of me wants to freeze this moment forever, yet the other part can't wait to watch my amazing girl grow into a young woman.  We pick up our pace and sprint back to the car.  "Mommy?"  "Yes, sweetheart."  "I love you."  "I love you, too, Punky."

At this time yesterday, I was questioning my sanity in choosing to home school as I watched my frustrated daughter writhe in the floor whining, simply because I had asked her to write a paragraph.  Today, I'm reminded why.  I'm reminded of what a gift and privilege it is for my husband and me to guide this little girl into womanhood and her brother into manhood.  I'm reminded that childhood flies and that I don't want to give the best parts of my daughter's day to someone I barely know. While many students sit in a classroom, often preparing for or taking a standardized test, on this gorgeous day, A watches wildlife in action and searches for answers to the questions her observations raise.  After lunch, we'll gather strawberries from the garden with her little brother and learn why some insects are helpful and others are harmful. We'll examine how a flower becomes a fruit then we'll multiply and divide rows of produce.  She will spend a beautiful spring day outside reenacting a scene from The Chronicles of Narnia, as she attempts to understand how the book is an allegory for our Christian faith because children learn and process best through play.

A has the freedom not only to understand the world but also to discover it. To me that is worth all the sacrifices and frustrations that inevitably accompany homeschooling.  Homeschooling isn't for everyone; it really isn't.  But, it's for my family and fits us like that favorite black dress that works for every occasion. It provides unassuming moments like a simple run alongside my children as they bike.  Here, I unearth the true treasure that homeschooling gives.  It's these moments stolen from the cultural demands to maintain a ridiculously harried schedule that drive us to demand a simpler lifestyle.  Sure, it sometimes requires hours of planning, reading, and studying to stay one step ahead; it's rearranging my life and being brave enough to start my own business.  It isn't easy, but to our family, this is worth every moment that leaves us questioning our sanity.  A simple bike ride where my daughter reveals her heart and easily shares her soul, a morning where I'm present, not buffeted by alarms, traffic, and the other strictures of modern society, a desire to live more intentionally:  this is why I home school.