On Homeschooling

I'm homeschooling my two oldest daughters this year.  I hadn't really intended to.  Last year we did part-time homeschool.  Luke, Abby and Miri all came home at lunch time and spent the rest of the day with me.  It's an idea I formulated while homeschooling Luke the year before; my attempt to find a balance between  needs and wants, dreams and reality when it comes to mothering and education.  It worked out splendidly for the most part.  Although surprised, the principal of our local elementary school was so willing to work with me and basically gave me carte blanche when it came to determining the schedule I wanted.  I made it easy on her and on their teachers-(who were also wonderful to work with) and just had my children break away at lunch time.  Done!

Some interesting developments took place over the course of the first few months.  Luke and I (and his teacher) all began to feel like he would benefit by returning to school full time so he could participate in some fabulous projects and plays put on by his Every Mother's Dream of a teacher.  So just before Christmas break, Luke went back to school full day for the rest of the school year and continued there this Fall.  At the same, Abby (and I) began to feel a pull to have her home full time.  We looked forward to homeschooling her at the start of this school year.

Miri was the only child in question.  My natural instinct was to have her go back to school full time this year.  I could tell that Abby wanted me all to herself, and, knowing both my daughters' particular personalities well, I felt that logically this would  be the best scenerio. 

But I wasn't sure.

The truth is, I wanted Miri to be in school so I could  focus on Abby, the way I did with Luke.  I told Miri that she could have a year of homeschooling just like Abby-- but not yet.  Maybe in another year.

But I just wasn't sure about it.

It's a funny thing- the decision to homeschool.  Like any major decision in life, for me at least, there is an initial burst of pure inspiration and ensuing conviction-- followed by some doubt and insecurity-- which occassionally bubbles over into pure trepidation.  It's difficult to stay the course through it all when it would be so much easier to just put them all in school.  There's a lot of second and third guessing involved, especially if your educational philosophy is not a black and white issue- like mine. 

My philosophy is simply to do what I feel is best for each individual child.  They are so unique.  I can't imagine one method is perfect for all of them all of the time.  I'm more concerned with figuring out what their particular strengths and temperaments are and developing a plan for each one, if its possible.  I have to be observant and open and willing to re-evaluate all along the way.  And I have to pray a whole lot. 

It wasn't until Miri actually started (year-round) school in July that I really buckled down and prayed specifically about her.  Before that, I wanted to assume I knew the answer already.  But I really didn't. 

Miri started school and everything was fine and dandy.  She came home excited.  She loved her teacher.  I was happy, she was happy.  But way way down somewhere inside of me was this little feeling gently tugging at me.  It translated into the thought that I really never did specifically pray about Miri and that I really should do that.  Unlike Luke and Abby, I really didn't know what was best for her this year.  When I sent her off to kindergarten two years ago, I knew it was best for her at that time.  And it was.  Last year, half day was really the best thing for her- and for me.  I could feel that too.  But this year...  I had no idea.  What if there was a wonderful teacher waiting for her who would thrill and inspire her to no end?  Abby's second grade teacher was exactly that.  Or what if she really just needs to be home with her Mommy this year- she's still so very young in heart and mind. 

I sat pondering the questions a week into school and my heart grabbed on to the latter thought.  Miri has such a tough, independent personality.  She can roll with anything school throws at her just fine, but her sharp edges- the ones that give her so much strength- are the same ones that could use a little softening right about now in her life.  I've had the impression lately that she needs some extra one on one mothering to bring that about. Not to mention she flourishes with one on one tutoring, as well.  What child doesn't?

But even with these thoughts, I still wasn't absolutely sure. I mean- she seemed excited and she loved her teacher already, right?  Why mess with a good thing? And on top of it, I really wasn't feeling up to it. Homeschooling both of them, I mean.  I was feeling weary.  But I prayed anyway.  And I felt like I needed an answer pretty quickly so that we didn't waste any more time.  I prayed to know what was best for her, and if home was best, that Miri would somehow come to that decision on her own, because heaven knows as well as I do that Miri will not be coerced or convinced.  It must be her idea. 

It couldn't have been more than 15 or 20 minutes after that prayer when the phone rang.  I was busy and didn't answer it- and nearly forgot all about it- but thankfully remembered to check messages about 30 minutes later.  It was the school.  They had Miri in the office, crying unconsolably.  "She says she misses her Mom," the secretary relayed compassionately.  "She's so so sad," she said, "I don't think I've ever seen a little girl so sad.  We can't seem to soothe her.  Please call us"

My heart melted.  This was so uncharacteristic of Miriam at present.  So much so that I knew immediately this was an answer to my prayer.  Miriam needed me to teach her this year.  And she came to it all on her own (with a little prodding from heaven, I suspect.)  By the time I called the school back, they had succeeded in calming Miri enough for her to return to class.  I let her stay there until school got out.  When she came home, I sat down with her on the couch and asked her about her day.  Then I told her that the school had called to let me know she was sad.  Her smile faded and her eyes welled up.  I put my arm around her and the bulging tears began rolling down her cheeks.  "Do you want to be homeschooled, Miri?" I asked.  She nodded a great big "Yes!" and we both smiled. 

That settled it. 

Answers to prayer can be so curious.  Miriam showing up at the office in tears and missing me is so uncharacteristic of her these days, but my response was equally inconsistent.  I'll indulge a tearful child initially, but I'm usually pretty firm about having them stick with it when it comes to attending a new class, either at school or at church.  With all of our moving over the years, I've had to be.  It's the only way to get through the adjustments with minimal pain and drama.  And to avoid raising a crew of wishy-washy wimpering souls. 

A combination of oddities, perfect timing and Miri's ownership of the decision.  That's how I knew it was heaven's will- as long as I was bothering to ask. 

We're three weeks into this new adventure.  In some ways, I feel like I'm building an entirely different ship this time around. 

Let's hope it sails.