It was about twenty-five
years ago that I was teaching a student who was struggling with the public
school system; I asked her parents if they had considered homeschooling, which
I had just been reading about, and, knowing this family, I thought they might
find it a good match—they had considered it, and they did successfully do it
for several years following that discussion. Their daughter blossomed under the
situation. At that time, I decided I
wanted to homeschool if I ever had children. I’d seen the difference between my
students and the American students. Mine came from Germany, Switzerland, Hong
Kong, China, Taiwan, Korea, and many other countries around the world. They
were energetic and eager to learn English—and complained that I did not give
enough homework. I experienced culture shock when I spent time in the “normal”
classroom.
Nineteen years ago my first
child was born, followed soon after by her two brothers. Knowing that my husband and I wanted our children to be homeschooled, I realized that if I were going to do so, I was going to have to
have a good relationship with them, and they would need to learn obedience. We
struggled through the years of early childhood with two of them being very
strong-willed—they being determined to rule their home world; I being determined
to succeed in raising obedient, loving, and Godly children.
By the time my youngest was
ready for kindergarten, I had read several books on homeschooling, and I was
ready. I chose to do what we called cycle teaching—we taught the basics of reading
and math and then added science (earth, biology, chemistry, physics) in a
4-year cycle, and history, moving up the time line twice throughout the school
years. It did not take a lot of hours
the first few years, because the amount of time it takes to teach the basics
one-on-one to a small child is minimal. We enjoyed the years of exploring
nature out-of-doors, reading books snuggled together on the couch, and
discovering the flow of history in a way I’d never experience it before. We
struggled through spelling and multiplication tables. We laughed together and
cried together. We were family.
When my daughter was
entering 7th grade, I came upon a book titled The Well-Trained
Mind. The authors, Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise, were a homeschooling
mom and daughter who had worked together to write a book on classical
homeschooling. I had always thought classical schooling sounded great, but it
was not until I read this book that I felt ready to give it a try. I discovered
the stages of learning a child travels through, the advantage of teaching them
Latin and logic, and the desire to raise children who could reason in an
argument winsomely with great knowledge and skill. I switched over to this
rigorous approach to teaching and never looked back. It was not long before I
had taken what I had learned from The Well-Trained Mind, and I had
started piecing together my own curriculum for my children. They flourished.
When a child struggles in
the homeschool, it is possible to reevaluate the child, the textbook, the
learning process and the goals to help the child learn optimally. When a child excels, the parent has the chance to push on ahead and give them enough to
challenge them. Each child excels and struggles in differing areas of his
life. My homeschool was no different. Although one child may have spent three
years learning multiplication tables, he did a college level writing program
his sophomore year. Another child who could not spell or speak clearly, who
found putting thoughts on paper painful, is the same child who people describe
to me as articulate and capable. We studied together, mom learning as much or
more than the children. We worked. We learned. We succeeded.
Today I look back over the
last 13 years and I see my eldest child now graduated from high school. This
fall she will be heading out to a small liberal arts college—who offered her a
4-year scholarship in hopes that she would attend their school. I struggle to
find the balance between the celebration of our accomplishment and the sadness of
seeing this time coming to an end. In the last years I’ve tried to give her
opportunity to flourish and be ready to move out into the world, confidently and
wisely. I’d want it no other way, of course.
Oh, but I will miss her!
It has been good. All the struggles
and successes fall together into a blur of love. If I had the opportunity, I
would most certainly do it all over again. I will continue this fall with my
sons, teaching, learning, and loving.
Today I feel like the eagle
that begins to rip her nest apart to force her fledglings to fly. Does that
mother bird regret the process, or does she only rejoice at the sight of her
young catching the air under its wings?
He is Faithful.
Jean