homeschooling: a story about change.

Some of you know this, but I’m about one of the most unlikely homeschooling moms out there.  Seriously.  It was something I never, ever considered doing: so much so, that years ago during our missions process I told David’s boss that my biggest requirement for our overseas home was a city with good schools so I wouldn’t have to homeschool our kids.

I’d give you reasons all day why I was dead set against homeschooling, but I think in the end it mainly boiled down to two things: 1. I couldn’t imagine being with my kids all.day.long for the next however-many years, and 2. The very idea of being in charge of their education — especially anything that involved crafts-and-creativity (or math. or science. or sports.) made me feel like running for a dark closet.

Well David’s boss granted my request without even batting an eye, and that’s the irony of this whole story.  We did move to a city with good schools.  We right away settled Judah into a neighborhood preschool that wasn’t perfect, but one where he was genuinely loved and cared for and learned lots of new things.

It was about a year into our life there that something inside me shifted.  I can’t explain why or how.  I’m sure it had something to do with the influence of my other American girl friends, all of whom planned to homeschool, who patiently explained and answered all of my, “But why???” questions, who weren’t defensive at all about their decision but were actually just plain excited.  In being around them I couldn’t help but begin to think outside my carefully constructed box, to ask more questions, to even imagine a different educational path for our family.

The shift also had something to do with the reality of our life overseas, with taking a good look at our school options and for a variety of reasons not feeling like anything I found was a good fit.

Countless books, blogs, frantic emails to friends back home, and conversations with my husband later, I finally just knew: I was going to homeschool Judah for preschool.  The thing that surprised me most about my drastic about-face was that in the end I wasn’t dragged into homeschooling kicking and screaming at all.

No, I actually wanted to dive into this crazy adventure.  I was excited, even.

So we jumped right in.

Nothing about last year turned out the way we expected, including homeschooling.  That doesn’t mean it was all bad, it just was . . . different.

And so this winter I found myself facing the Big Decision again, but suddenly I was living in a completely different city, in a different country, with a soon-to-be-kindergartner and a whole new slew of school options around us (options. do you hear that, people? that’s what America has above all else: options).

I say this was my decision not because David wasn’t involved; he was.  He had opinions.  He was my sounding-board.  But he’s known and reminded me all along that a lot of the day-to-day responsibility of whatever school choice we make will fall on my shoulders.  So while he weighed in and while he was infinitely patient with the hundred conversations I felt we needed to have about kindergarten, he also wanted me to have the final say.

We do not live in a good school district, but there are a couple of charter schools in our area, as well as a plethora of private schools.  So I took down school names and scoured websites and talked to friends and we talked through the pros and cons of me going back to work to send our son to private school.

And for some reason this whole research process made me feel stressed and uneasy and oddly . . . sad.

I began mourning the absence of Judah’s presence throughout the day, of the brightness in his dark brown eyes when he announces he’s learned something new, of his perceptive questions about the way things work, of his wrinkled brow and acute attention to detail when he sits down to color a picture.

Like any mom, I wanted the very best for my boy’s education — and at the same time I also felt this undefinable sense of loss.  It even got to the point where I felt myself close to tears any time I thought about the Decision.

In the end I didn’t get very far into my research.  I never actually visited a school or met a teacher or saw a classroom.  I kept putting off visit days and neglecting to schedule interviews with financial aid.

Instead, feeling a little rebellious, I loaded my kids into the car one windy February morning to check out a homeschooling co-op in our area, Classical Conversations, where home-schooled kids go one morning a week to do their history memory work and science and art together (older grades do English and Math as well).  And we loved it.  Judah came alive in that classroom sitting at a table with eight other kids and a teacher, learning about the four types of volcanos, even stepping up to give his own little presentation.

When we left that day, my heart stopped feeling sad.  Maybe I didn’t have to lose anything.  Maybe we could continue just like we have been, only with some help.  Maybe this co-op is just what I need for curriculum and inspiration and accountability, and just what my kids need for a classroom experience and social outlet.

So that’s where we are today.

I’ve had lots of people say, “I’m surprised you’re not sending your kids to your alma mater,” which is Ben Lippen, a private Christian school just up the road.  And to that I say, “We just might do that.  Someday.”

But not now.

For now, I want to be apart of everything — now, while they still want my company all day.  While they’re growing and changing and learning at such rapid speeds, their eyes wide with curiosity and delight.  While they’ll cuddle up close on the sofa for hours while we read stacks of books together and then jump up and run into their bedroom to dress up and act out the stories they see in their imagination.

While we can plow full-force ahead into this scary, thrilling adventure of learning and do it together.

The kids know about our decision and they’re excited.  Judah will start kindergarten and Amelie will be in 4K.  I do think we could try homeschooling without a co-op, but I think it would be hard.  I’ve struggled this year with lack of community and structure. And both Judah and Amie are very social and thrive in group learning settings.   Maybe one morning a week isn’t going to be enough for them.  Or for me.  So we’ll keep checking in, and we’ll evaluate our decision after this year.

I guess the moral of this whole long ramble-y story about myself as the unlikely homeschooler is this: people change.  I change.  I’ve changed lots of times already, and I hope I keep changing.  That’s the beauty of the way God made us, with all our complexities and our unique stories.

And so I’ve ordered the curriculum and paid the co-op fees and I’m working like crazy to get our homeschooling room more or less unpacked and functional by the second week of August.  I’m excited to settle down into a soothing rhythm this year, and I’m keeping myself open, once again, to the possibility of change.  To God leading us in a new direction another year.

Who knows what I’m dead set against now that I’ll be happily embracing down the road.  That thought puts a smile on my face.

(This post is dedicated to Maggie and Keli and Alison, whom I love and miss, and who continue to change me from afar).