Is it easier to homeschool kids who have been to school?

September 29, 2010

That’s it! I’m calling the school tomorrow!


Where’s that bus? Oh, how I wish I could make it stop. . .

Really? You’re going to fight me for one page of math? It’ll take you 10 minutes! If you were in school. . .

You don’t know how good you have it.

I know a lot of homeschooling parents who have either said, or thought, the above in some way, shape or form when their kids give them a hard time about doing any kind of structured lesson (or even unstructured ones!).

(and if you are one whose child never, ever gives them a hard time, consider yourself lucky. . .and rare)

I think most of what I’m feeling when I say or think the above can be summed up in the last statement: You don’t know how good you have it.

And here is where I start to think that maybe kids who have been IN school before can appreciate homeschooling more:

Maybe the child who has had to get up at 7am, day after day, to scarf down breakfast, throw on clothes, brush-comb-wash, and run to the bus appreciates eating a slow breakfast and doing the first day’s lesson in PJ’s.

Maybe the child who has had to sit through long, boring instruction on a topic they mastered months before appreciates skipping forward a few pages when the lessons are too easy.

And, conversely, maybe the child who was confused and struggling but didn’t get the attention they needed in a classroom of 20-30 kids appreciates being able to spend as long as necessary on a topic, until it is mastered.

Maybe the child who gazed longingly out the classroom window on a gorgeous afternoon appreciates being done with his work at noon and having the rest of the day to explore, see friends or do nothing at all.

Maybe the child who was bullied and teased appreciates being in a safer environment, with kids who don’t seem to care if he’s a little different from the norm.

My oldest, in 4th grade, seems to “get it” more, mainly because her school friends will tell her how “lucky” she is. But, my middle child, who has never gone to school, will moan and groan over a few minutes of grammar or spelling or math, and it drives me batty.

Don’t they know how good they have it?
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Edited to add: Okay. . .due to the rather angry direction these comments have taken, I’d like to clarify a few things: I am not anti-public school or anti-private school. My oldest says she wants to go to high school and, when we reach that point, she will most likely do just that. If I thought one of my kids would be better suited to life in a school setting, I’d seriously consider it.
That said, to call homeschool kids “weird” is ignorant and closed minded. And, not all public school kids go on to deal drugs (though I think Tracey was trying to make a point, not paint every kid with the same brush).
And really? We’re all doing the best we can with the choices we’ve made. So play nice.
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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Kids, Homeschooling 59 Comments

When homeschoolers move on to something else

September 27, 2010


There aren’t a ton of homeschoolers in my part of the state, especially in my town with its “good public schools”. So, when I first started homeschooling, I remember keeping track of everyone I met because it made me feel better to have a circle of people who had all chosen this not-very-popular way of educating their kids.

But, lately, it feels like more and more of them are choosing a different path, and it’s made me a little sad to see them go.

There is the awesome friend and new neighbor who moved to my town—my town!—but then decided to try out those good public schools. There is the wonderfully supportive friend whose oldest just got into the local charter school and started today. There is the well-known radical unschooling mom whose teen decided to try out school this year. Another mom I know just sent her oldest to private school. And then there are friends who are trying a public-school-sanctioned virtual learning course, with a teacher overseeing their progress.

This all doesn’t mean that a bunch of people have decided that homeschooling sucks or doesn’t work or is too hard. I know they all had to do a lot of soul-searching and had to think of their child’s wants as much as their own. And, for those who are my friends, I know we will still remain friends, no matter how their kids get educated.

But, I’m sad that my circle seems to be shrinking, just a bit.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, Homeschooling 16 Comments

My pond

September 26, 2010
This originally ran on New England Mamas. I’m going to be pulling some of my favorite posts over here to keep them all under one “roof”. Hope you don’t mind the repeat if you’ve seen this before.

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It is a quiet place. The house is nestled in the pines, almost on top of the waterfront. The water is fresh, clean and teaming with sunfish who, upon hearing my feet on the dock, rush to me in the hopes that I will have some old bread for them. I might see an old turtle swimming in the waters or hear a duck quacking around the bend. Or, I might hear nothing at all.


I have been coming here my entire life.

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It was my grandparents’ place, then my bachelorette pad, and now the place my mother calls home. Before I was 18, there was a boys’ camp across the way, and I’d wake to hear a voice on the loudspeaker telling the boys what their day held for them. I flirted shyly with them as they canoed on the pond, banging their metal boats into each other as if fighting some primitive war. If any came too close, my grandmother would yell from the second floor windows, Get away from my granddaughter!


My own personal body guard at 13.

When I lived there alone, I was never afraid. I’d come home late after working in the city, open the door of my car and hear a thud at my feet. Two shiny eyes would be looking at me. It was my neighbor’s large black lab who had come to play catch in the darkness. I’d hold the drooly ball between my fingers and play catch for five or ten minutes in the heat of the summer or the freezing cold of winter.

When I swim, I feel the span of generations all around me. I remember swimming up to my grandmother and holding on to her sturdy wrinkled arm. I remember watching my dad diving off the end of the dock and swimming off into the center of the pond. I recall my sister doing bobs in the water. I think of the friends, family and my new husband all swimming in the dark waters after our wedding.

And, now, I see my own children playing in the waters that have soothed me my entire life.

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This is a place so special to me, it must remain secret. However, that isn’t to say that it is closed to you. Families now walk through the former boys’ camp and ignore the “Do Not Enter” signs that lead to a quiet, sandy, no-frills beach area. For the determined, there is a way in. And, if you see me on the other side, wave.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, My-Not-So-Sordid Past, New England Mamas 10 Comments
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