• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Home
  • About
  • Favorite Posts & Series
  • Booklists
  • School
  • Connect
  • Marian Vischer
  • Nav Social Menu

    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter
Marian Vischer

Marian Vischer

The Entire “Being Cool About School” Series, All in One Place


To pin the image above {and the series}, just hover over the picture and you’ll see the Pinterest logo. You can also use the social media share buttons at the bottom of the post.

………………………

I’m taking a little break from writing over the next few days in order to rest and to allow readers to get caught up on the series. 

There are ten posts in all and I have them listed below. I’m going to try and put the series logo image in the right sidebar at some point over the next few days. I’d love for these posts to serve as a resource for those who stress and struggle and overthink the way I did {and still do} over this whole thing of doing school. 

I’d also love to know your personal thoughts about school decisions. 

::::

Do you think that having more choices makes the decision more difficult?

Does our American consumer mentality influence our approach because we are looking for the “perfect” school product? 

Is this a decision that you have personally struggled with?

Have you employed a variety of school options for your own kids?

Do you have strong feelings, one way or another, about how to educate your children?

::::

Whatever your thoughts, concerns, or questions, I’d love to hear them. Truly, I welcome all feedback.

Writing this series has taught me so much. Learning from others may provide some ideas and insight as I consider developing the “project” a bit more in the future and writing some additional posts here and there.

Thanks a million for all of the support, feedback, and community you all provide. 

Have a great weekend, friends!


…………………………………


Being Cool About School {a series}:
Finding Grace and Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Family’s Educational Choices



Post 1: “So are you still glad you switched your kids from homeschool to public school?”

What is this series about? Who’s it for? What on earth motivated you to write it? 

Post 2: Our Story Part 1
The backstory and early years of this educational journey.

Post 3: Our Story Part 2, Lessons I’ve Learned in Letting a Good Thing Go
Our transition from homeschooling to public school

Post 4: 8 Reasons I’m Glad We Homeschooled 
This is not a post espousing all the virtues of homeschooling. Rather, it’s a look at how we can appreciate and learn from the gifts and the challenges of our homeschooling experience.

Post 5: A Letter to My Homechooling Self {What I’d Do Differently}

Post 6: 5 Gifts in Our Transition from Homeschool to Public School

Post 7: How Can We All Care About Public School? {And Why Should We?}

Post 8: 8 Things to Consider if You’re Thinking About Public School

Post 9: Rejecting Fear-Based Motivations and Resting in Freedom
What happens when our ideals become idols? How 
do fear, pride, and idealism infiltrate our decisions about how to educate our children, and how can we guard against it?

Post 10: How Can We Come Together?
What inspires true community when we’re doing school in a variety of ways? How can we approach others with grace and freedom? {And why should we?}


Finale Post :: Being Cool About School: How Can We Come Together?



This last installment of the series poses the greatest challenge of all because it gets at the heart of…well, our hearts. I’m not writing about the pros and cons of one way or another, nor am I recounting the lessons I’ve personally learned. This is the “olive branch post,” the post in which I remind each and every one of us that there is only one way we can approach others who have chosen to do school differently than we’ve chosen to do it. 

With love. 


But before I break that down, let’s ponder two things: 

1. Do you need to hand over the gavel?

If you’re educating your children in a way that reflects significant thought, research, and conviction, you’re probably pretty attached to this way. That doesn’t mean you love it every day or that you think it’s perfect. But it does mean that right now it’s difficult to imagine choosing a different path. 

Someone who has chosen that different path may very well reflect the same amount of thought, research, and conviction that you do. 

So if you harbor some less than loving opinions of that person and / or their schooling choice, you’re…um, how can I put this? You’re being judge-y. 

For those who are Christians, we’ve been given some instruction on this. I’ll be honest, it’s not my favorite admonition, because I’m prone to being a bit judge-y too. We all are. And that’s why we need the reminder:

Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?

Sometimes we toss this verse around in an effort to deflect rightly-earned rebuke. This isn’t a verse that says, Anything goes. Live and let live. Don’t judge me and I won’t judge you.

My ESV commentary explains that Judge not forbids pronouncing another person guilty before God. It’s interesting that in verse five, the one doing the judging {referred to as a “hypocrite”} is told to first take the speck out of his own eye.

Why? Because a posture of humility is the only true and good posture we can assume. When we judge, when we’re doing a little bit {or a lot} of condemning in our thoughts or even in our talk, we might as well just hand Pride the microphone. 

And though the Pride may receive a lot of attention and make a lot of noise and even garner the respect of likeminded followers, Pride will not receive the favor of God. 

You see, God actually opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. 

Sometimes I feel as though we’re all walking around calling out splinters and failing to notice that we’ve got actual oaks  rooted in our own eyeballs {weird and creepy as that metaphor is.} Pride and judgement have a way of blinding us like that. 

And though we judge other people and other groups every day on a thousand different issues, school just happens to be the one I’m talking about right now. 




To know if you’re walking around with a log in your eye on this issue, ask yourself these questions:

  • How would I feel if someone judged me, my family, or my decisions / convictions with the same attitude with which I’m judging them?


  • When I think of those who are doing this school thing way differently than we are, do I feel grace, love, and respect for them or do I become a little judge-y?


  • If, for any reason, I had to give up the way we currently do education and resort to the path I am most likely to judge or balk at, how would I feel? Like a failure? Less godly? Like I had to hang out with people who I think are weird or misguided or both?


I’m not going to interpret your answers. That’s for you to sort out. But your answers to those questions may reveal some attitudes that you need to confront. I don’t say this to make you feel guilty. I say this because I’d love to see all of us set free. Only freedom can allow us to come together in love and unity.

Which brings me to my next point…


2. Are you promoting a spirit of unity with your thoughts, conversations, and fellowship?

{What? You’re still reading this after all of that toe-stepping and weird talk about trees in our eyes?}

Though many different sorts of people read this blog, I think that most of my readers are at least sympathetic to the Christian faith and have probably observed or experienced {or run from} some of the disunity within the church over this issue of school. 

In a very timely message on “Authentic Christian Unity” last Sunday, my pastor shared this quote:

In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity.

                                                                      ~ Rupertus Meldenius, circa 1627


Meldenius was a German theologian during the Thirty Years War, a time rife with violence and religious factions in Europe. It’s a great quote, isn’t it? But you’re probably thinking the same thing I am. What happens when we can’t agree on what’s “essential” and what’s “non-essential?”

Disunity arises when we confuse the two, when we interpret something Scripture says differently than another person. 

Our own church is an interesting mix of public school and homeschool families. We don’t have many private school folks because there are so few private schools in our area. I think ours is an “interesting” mix because churches have a way of fostering homogeneity among its congregants. It’s common to find a church in which most of its families homeschool or most of its families support and attend the church-chartered private school or most of its families attend the local public schools. 

But our rather large church reflects an array of choices. And I love that. Why? Because I think it can allow us to practice real Christian unity and charity. We’re not bound together because we’re likeminded about all things, even important things like education. And because we don’t all do things the same way, we have even greater opportunity to practice unity; we’re bound together by the love and spirit of Christ himself and not by our identical decisions.

Jesus {who is our model, our motivation, and our means} befriended every segment of society: Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female, prostitute and patrician. For so many of these people, Christ was the only common ground. 

How much more can He unite us?

Our Youth & Family Ministries at church actually wrote a statement on formal education, acknowledging that “the Scriptures do not explicitly tell us how to teach our children regarding formal education.” I’d like to share an excerpt because it gets at the core of Christian unity on the issue of school:

Therefore, we encourage families to act on their own convictions and show grace to those who choose to apply Scripture differently… 

Our calling is to go as far as the Scriptures go and no farther. Therefore, our calling is to help youth & families know Christ and His Word in such a way that biblical wisdom will govern each family’s application of scripture regarding formal education.  

We acknowledge that the differences that exist regarding formal schooling options can often provide opportunities for sinful hearts to overflow into gossip, judgmental attitudes, and condescending thoughts and words. In acknowledgment of the damage that such sinful attitudes and actions can do to Christ’s body, we call all families to dialogue about issues such as school choice with humility, grace, and gentleness {Prov. 15:1}, reflecting the grace we have received from Christ, our merciful Savior. 


Humility, grace, and gentleness. Those virtues are at the heart of unity on any issue that threatens to divide us. 

But there is a virtue that binds all of these others together, a virtue that is the “greatest,” a virtue that Colossians 3:12-15 invites us to literally “put on.”

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love*, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

*emphasis mine 

Can you see it? The key to coming together on this issue is love. And quite honestly, you don’t have to believe in the Bible or any of this Christian charity stuff to recognize that humility, gentleness, and kindness–bound together by love–is truly the answer to living in a community that is full of grace for those who do the “non-essentials” differently.



Sister-in-law
: Classical-ish homeschool mom. Sister-in-law: Public school mom and now K12 on-line school mom. My mom: Combination of public school and private school among her own 4 kiddos. Sister: Homeschooled 2 years. Now is a public school mom at their inner-city Title 1 school. Me: Homeschool-turned-public-school-mom.
Different personalities, different kids, different family dynamics, different communities, different needs, and different ways of schooling.
Common denominator? A whole lot of love. 



So in light of love and charity, what practical and tangible action steps can we take? You can probably come up with some of your own but here are a few to get us started:

  • If your kids don’t attend public school, acknowledge and appreciate those who, day in and day out, teach over 90% of the children in your community. I talked a little about that in this post {and confessed that I haven’t been good at this.} Virtually all of us have friends, family members, or acquaintances who work in the public schools. How often do we thank them, pray for them, or enter into conversations with them in the bleachers or on the sidelines about how their year is going? 


  • If you’ve chosen public school or private school but you know homeschooling mamas, ask them how their year is going? Show interest in what they’re doing and the unique ways they’re learning. You may even learn something from one another about creative ways to study, or books your children have enjoyed, or fun field trip ideas. So many of our learning opportunities and methods can overlap; see one another as a friend and also as a resource.

  • Know the issues and vote for the good of the children being educated in your community. I know, this sounds obvious and like I’m just grasping at straws here but seriously, it’s important. {I also know that personal politics may determine how we define “good.”} If your kids are homeschooled or in private school, it’s tempting to live unaware of the legislation that affects public schools. But please, don’t live unaware and don’t become apathetic. Imagine those public school kids as your own kids. Because they are, in a way, all of our own kids. Vote with conviction and compassion. {And that’s as political as I’m ever going to get on this blog.} 




    • Understand that sometimes “self-awareness” decreases as personal conviction and excitement about an issue increases. Don’t assume the worst. We see it and hear it everywhere: social media, in the parking lot, at various conferences or practicums, in conversations with friends, on the news. Someone is really pumped about an issue or an opportunity or, in this case, a way of learning, and they get a little evangelistic about it. Such conviction and enthusiasm can lead to alienating others. Sometimes people don’t care if they alienate those who are already “on the other side.” But sometimes they are simply unaware. 


      • Your neighbor who homeschools may not intend to make you feel less-than about public schooling when she goes on and on about the awesome field trip they took to the planetarium. 
      • Your cousin on Facebook may have no idea that she makes you feel less-than about homeschooling when she posts a picture of the back-to-school teacher breakfast she organized with a caption that reads: I just love being involved in my kids public schools!
      • Those homeschool moms who are always visiting together at church probably {hopefully!} aren’t trying to exclude you because you’re a public school mom. And those public moms probably {hopefully!} aren’t trying to exclude you because you’re a homeschool mom. As I’ve said before, you need “your people” because you need a specific kind of encouragement and that’s okay. But know that we also need one another. Maybe you can be the one who chooses to be brave and initiates some conversation that’s a bit more inclusive?


    Don’t assume the worst. Don’t take counsel from your own insecurities and sensitivities. And if someone “on the other side” is actually trying to elevate their way over your way, know that you’re not responsible for their attitude; you’re simply responsible for yours.


    Run hard after love, my friend. Recognize your own need for grace and receive it so that you can more generously lavish it on others. Pray that unity and community can become more important than being right or being understood or being approved.

    Put on love. 


    ::::::


    As I sat down to write this final post in a series, I felt two distinct emotions: Relief. That I was actually about to finish this thing. And sadness. That I was actually about to finish this thing. 

    I thought I’d write five or six posts and I ended up with ten. I thought the introductory, story-telling posts would be the longest ones and that the other posts would be succinct and easy to write. Instead, some of my later posts felt like books in and of themselves. My husband would come home and ask how the day went and I would respond, lethargic and glassy-eyed, I wrote a post that felt like I wrote a book about rejecting fear-based motivation. I’m sorry the laundry is still not folded. And yes, we are having leftovers. 

    I went deep over these last few weeks. Much deeper than I’d planned. And in mining the depths of this complex, confusing, and often controversial subject of school, I’ve realized that there’s still so much more to say. 

    But that’s where you pick up with the rest of the story. Yes. You.

    Here’s the thing. I could write a book about the topic of “finding grace and freedom for ourselves and for others in our educational choices,” and in some ways, I feel like I have. But a thousand great and inspiring books on the subject won’t do a bit of good if we aren’t able to live the freedom and grace about which I’ve written these last few weeks. 

    This freedom and grace in how you educate your own kids? It’s for real. There isn’t a formula. There isn’t a perfect way. 

    It’s all grace. I believe this with all my heart. God has written this message on my own life in a thousand ways. School just happens to be one of them.

    And because it’s all grace, we can live freedom and grace and generosity in our communities. 

    We can experience trial and error.

    We can embrace paths and ways we never planned to travel and we can embrace paths and ways others choose to travel.

    We can listen to one another. 

    We can learn from one another. 

    We can lean on one another. 

    And we can love one another. 

    The end. 

    …………………….


    Friends, thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments, e-mails, texts, and Facebook messages. Thank you for encouraging me as I write to encourage others. The community that gathers around here is a sweet gift. There are countless places and spaces where you can spend your time; I’m honored that you choose to spend some of it here.

    Grace and peace to each one of you.


    ……………………..


    This is the tenth and final post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive additional posts from a la mode. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 


      

    Being Cool About School, a series: Rejecting Fear-Based Motivations & Resting in Freedom



    Fear-based motivation has a way of turning our ideals into idols.

    It isn’t wrong to desire good things for ourselves and for our loved ones. In fact, we were created to live in perfect beauty, perfect community, and perfect abundance. Living in a fallen world doesn’t squash those desires for perfection. But when good desires face off with harsh realities, you get real life. Not life as it was meant to be and one day will be, but life as it is: scarred and sacred, broken and beautiful. Living in a fallen world doesn’t mean we abandon all hopes of reflecting and experiencing God’s good gifts, but it does mean we have to reckon, each and every day, with imperfection.

    Some of us struggle more than others with idealism. I’m a big-time struggler, in case you haven’t noticed. All my life I have pined away for perfect. I’m captivated by the beautiful places and creations of this world. A hopeless romantic, I love love, in all its many lovely forms. I tend to strive for excellence in my pursuits. I’m prone to putting “perfect” anything or anyone up on a pedestal. 

    Perfection and idealism have been my lifelong companions, traipsing alongside me and shouting their requirements into each stage and season of my life. When I was younger, I worked hard at school, at running, at being liked. When I taught, I revised and reworked my lectures almost every semester because it seemed they could always be better. When I got married and eventually became a mom, I strove for domestic tranquility and perfect parenting.  

    But at each and every stage, I confronted a powerful and pervasive reality: Life is falling painfully short of what it’s “supposed” to look like. I am falling painfully short. My marriage is falling painfully short. My parenting is falling painfully short. My children are falling painfully short. I. can’t. get. this. right. 

    And for the longest time, I simply tried harder. I read more books. I adopted repeated resolutions on do-better-ness. I got scared that I was doomed to this less-than-ideal everyday and allowed fear and perfection and pride to motivate many of my thoughts and behaviors. 

    It’s therefore no surprise that fear and its friends motivated many ideas and decisions regarding the education of my own children. 

    Yes, I homeschooled for an array of positive, non-fear-driven reasons: time together as a family, flexibility, freedom in what and how we learned, moving at our own pace, etc. Those are all fine and good reasons to choose homeschool. But those fine and good reasons were also mixed together with a healthy dose of pride, reactionary fear and idealism:


    I don’t want my children subjected to sub-standard teaching and content.

    I’m afraid they won’t develop any critical thinking skills because the teachers have to teach to the tests and it’s all about making sure children just know the “right” answers.

    I don’t want my children inhaling and imitating all the stuff this crazy world will throw at them in public school.

    I don’t want them to get hurt.

    I’m afraid they won’t appreciate good books if their school-time read-alouds aren’t on my list of fine children’s literature. 

    What if they don’t develop a love for learning because the inefficiency and busywork of school sucks the joy right out of it?


    Is it wrong to want great things for our children? Of course not. We love them and we want the best for them.




    Should we be concerned about their academic, emotional, physical, and spiritual welfare? Absolutely. 

    Is it easy for these good things and good gifts to become ultimate things? Yes.

    Had these good things become ultimate things for me? Definitely.

    Quite simply, my children’s education had become an idol, an overdesire. And unfortunately, I had a resevoir of personal pride, fear-based motivation, and {somewhat} well-meaning propaganda from which to draw. There is a fine line between inspiration and indoctrination. Somewhere along the way, I sipped a bit of the Kool-Aid and slipped from the former into the latter. 

    Now that real life has re-routed us in ways I’d never imagined but am so thankful for, I’ve tasted freedom and grace in an area where I used to feel quite bound up. I’ve also basked in some hard-won clarity and common sense. 

    Sometimes I‘m angry that I granted fear and pride enough power to turn off my brain and invite emotions and idealism to rule the day. As a result, I now become frustrated when I see fear-based motivation selling itself to unsuspecting and well-meaning parents. It happens on all sorts of parenting issues: Attachment or schedule? Breast or bottle? This mode of discipline or that form? Working mom or stay-at-home? 

    But educational choices and methodologies seem to beat all in this quest for the “right” way to approach teaching our children. In fact, each schooling option has within it a host of additional schooling factions: Unschooling or more traditional homeschooling? Charter schools or “regular” public schools? Schools for the performing arts and schools for the budding engineers? Dual-credit classes at local colleges or AP courses at the local high school? And those are just public school possibilities. There are enough private school options to dizzy the mind and enough homeschool approaches to make your head explode. Conferences and books and web-sites abound, each one often promoting the virtues of one particular way of education over the “obvious” evils and disadvantages of other ways.  

    It’s fine to do research. It’s fine to become inspired. It’s fine to make a choice and feel confident in it. 

    It is not fine to be driven by fear or self-righteouness or a city-on-a-hill mentality into one option over another option, or to drive others using these lesser motivations into one option over another option.

    These days, if you want to get me just a tad riled up, start using the rhetoric of fear when it comes to issues of schooling. And if you really want to smoke the crazy right out of me, add a healthy dose of moral duty or Biblical mandate along with it. 

    People will hate me for saying this, but both sides do it.

    I’m only one person and I’ve been privy to propaganda on a variety of fronts. I have nearly walked out of certain homeschooling talks and been tempted to burn pieces of literature that created fear-based, hypothetical, cause-and-effect motivation for rejecting public schooling in favor of homeschooling. Conversely, I have been incensed and insulted by public school proponents who have used fear-based, hypothetical, cause-and-effect motivation for rejecting the idiocy or “selfishness” of homeschooling in favor of public-schooling. 

    I realize that my writing usually has a gentler tone, but I’ve seen and experienced the damage and anxiety of loveless, legalistic persuasion. Fear, pride, and idealism can be a lethal mix. They kill community and friendships and unity. They divide and elevate and separate. They have a way of blinding us to common sense and the freedom of our personal callings as parents and families. 

    Let’s look at a few sample arguments from both sides to show you what I’m talking about. These are just some of the actual arguments with which I’m personally familiar. There are many more.


    If you send your kids to public school:

    Your kids will learn this and not that.

    Your kids will not be protected from this but exposed to that.

    Your kids will read sub-standard literature.

    Your kids will not diagram sentences, nor will they learn enough grammar. They will therefore be educationally stunted for the rest of their lives.

    Your kids will learn Common Core math and not have to work a single math problem with any accuracy for the remainder of their educational careers. {For the record, my kids are doing Common Core math and guess what? They have to get right answers.} 

    Your kids will be deprived of the “right” Biblical methodology of learning.

    Your kids are committing spiritual suicide.

    You’re letting someone else do most of the work in teaching and raising your child. This is selfish.


    If you keep your kids out of public school:

    Your kids will not know how to make it in the real world.

    Your kids will not have any cultural currency and will therefore be the laughing stock of their college lecture halls.

    Your kids will expect the world to bend to their whims and their schedule instead of the other way around.

    Your kids will be unsocialized.

    You’re not teaching your children to live in community.

    Your kids will think the rules don’t apply to them.

    Their peers will become more important than their family; their socialization will be characterized by mob rule, disrespect, and poor manners.

    You’re depriving our community of the positive influence your family and your children could be. This is selfish.


    Did I just step on some toes? Well, if you makes you feel any better, my own toes are a bit bruised and bloody as a result of this entire series. But we have to be honest about the climate surrounding us and recognize the ways in which we’ve contributed or succumbed to oversimplification and generalization.

    You don’t have to be a Christian or even religious to recognize and reject fear-based motivation. It has a way of infiltrating every brand of politics, activism, and community. We are blessed beyond measure to have the freedom to live and teach and buy and worship the way we want to. May it always be so. But with so many “choices,” we need to be ever at the feet of wisdom.

    For those who are Christians, I’d like to go a bit deeper with the rest of this post. What does the Bible have to say about being sent out into the world motivated by a spirit of fear instead of the spirit of God? 

    Though there are plenty of places I could go, 2 Timothy 1:7 and 1:9 seem fitting.

    For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.


    This is such consolation. God has not anointed us with a spirit of fear but with a spirit of freedom and boldness and so much more. 

    How does this apply to school and to parenting in general? For starters, we don’t have to work harder to get this right. We don’t have to look like someone else. We don’t have to beat our heads against the wall to figure it out.  

    Fear should not lead us and if it is, it’s not of God. He fills us with power, not fear. Pride has no place in our decisions and if it does, it’s not of God. He fills us with love and humility, not pride. Anxiety has no place in our decisions and if it does, it’s not of God. God graciously replaces our anxiety with a sound mind. {Some translations translate this as self-control or discipline.}

    The beauty and power of the gospel is that it speaks directly into the heart of everything, including decisions about school and parenting. How convenient that the beauty and power of the gospel are found just one verse away in 2 Timothy 1:9: 

    [God] who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began… 


    We have not been saved and called because of anything we’ve done or will do, but because of everything God has done and will do, through his grace in Christ Jesus. 

    That’s why we can have a sound mind and not be swayed by fear-based speak. That’s why we can love others who do this differently. That’s why we can be free to love and not to judge. That’s why we can be bold in our callings, which are his purposes for us, not as homeschoolers or public schoolers or private schoolers but as followers of Christ. 

    Though our individual lives may look different from one another, our essential callings are the same: To love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and to love our neighbor as ourselves. 
    Here’s a tough challenge. It makes me squirm just typing it: 

    If the way you are schooling is getting in the way of either of these callings {which are actually commandments}, it may be time to take inventory and figure out why. What ideals-turned-idols have become your functional savior(s)? 

    Yes, it can be frightening to switch gears. It’s no fun to look truth in the face. It’s not easy to enter into unchartered parts of community when we’d rather stay safe and comfy in our own homes and with our own kind. 




    I struggle with this today, right now, in the midst of this very series. I don’t have things neatly figured out. I only know that pride and fear should have no jurisdiction here. 


    There is certainly plenty to be afraid of. But let’s consider the real evils of this world. Imperfect sentence diagramming and cuss words written on the bathroom stalls are not the real evils.

    I’m not trying to minimize the negative influence of certain peers on your kids. Public school allows for an entire social scene that I’m only partially privilege to. I’ve seen “good” kids led astray and with devastating consequences. And I’ve also personally known just as many homeschooling and private schooling families who were vigilant in trying to protect their kids, only to find that the evils of this world still infiltrated their families through marital breakdown, sexual abuse, rebellion, mental illness, and a whole host of difficult and tragic situations. 

    This shouldn’t surprise us. My last post discussed the danger of externalizing and regionalizing evil. The evil isn’t “out there.” Jesus reminds us that In this world you will have trouble. He does not then go on to say, Therefore get ye out of this world and to a safe and sheltered commune. Nor does he say, Therefore work ye the formula to make sure the trouble stays away from your family. 

    What does he say? But take heart! I have overcome the world. 

    Friends, this is so freeing. It means that it’s not our job to overcome the world. Nor is it our job to make sure none of its evils infiltrate our tidy and formulaic lives. It is our “job” to take heart and to rest in Christ. He alone is our hope. And because He is in us, we can confidently live in this troubled world. We can do this as individuals and also as families.

    We can be salt and light, resting in our overcoming-all-the-trouble Savior, whether we teach our kids at home or send them to school. I believe that the “ends” for most of us are the same, even if the “means” differ. 

    At the risk of being reductionistic, some may choose homeschool or private school because they want to shore their children up strong in truth and faith before they send them out. And some choose to do everyday discipleship by sending kids into public schools and helping them practice truth and faith.  

    The goal for intentional parents is the same: I want my kids to bear fruit in this world. I want them to be ready and equipped. 




    The vehicle is different according to each family and each situation. But however you choose to do this, do it on purpose. 

    This is the part where I get bossy, the part where I leave you with with “points” and bold text. I already mentioned the first one.

    1. However you choose to do this thing of school, do it on purpose. 

    Know why you’re doing it and if at all possible, don’t forget about community in the process. You can send your kids to public school and be so focused on friendships and factions that mirror the values and appearance of your own family, you end up forgetting about the dire needs of the larger school community. The same goes for homeschool and private school. Homogeneity and apathy and having already-full plates can make us ineffective. Just try to notice, okay?  


    2. Know who you’re following and why. 

    Jesus’ words to his disciples are simple: Follow me. Not follow my followers but follow me.

    I’m going to ask some very pointed questions to the Christians reading this: Who are you following on this issue of educating your children? Are you more interested in what various leaders of camps have to say? Have you spent as much time in prayer, seeking Jesus in this issue, as you’ve spent reading books or skimming web-sites or attending conference sessions led by certain gurus or recounting sermons preached by certain pastors?

    I usually stay away from questions like that. They can be laced with guilt and condescension. Please know that’s not my intent. But if you’re anything like I was, you’ve probably spent more time considering the opinions of very well-intentioned others than you’ve spent considering the counsel of, and experiencing the fellowship with, Christ himself.  

    I wish I’d tucked all the books away and simply prayed more. I wish I’d used the God-given common sense that my husband and I both possess instead of getting caught up in idealism and educational utopias. Though I do not at all regret homeschooling, I just wish I’d proceeded differently, trusting that Jesus would gently lead us and that He didn’t need the help of any educational evangelists.

    There are many gifted and persuasive people out there. Some of them are very passionate about their agenda and they want to sweep you into the cause too. And that may or may not be okay. 

    But some of these gifted people, though very persuasive, are not wise. They use fear, overstatements, and generalizations to make their points and they sway us because our most precious commodity is at stake: our children. {And some of them would go on to say, our culture.}

    Remember, God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

    As I mentioned in an earlier post, He gently leads those that have young. Notice that God does not lead with the use of reactionary anger, scare tactics, manipulation, or statistics. He leads with gentleness.

    He knows we are vulnerable when it comes to our young. He knows we are easily led astray. Parenthood is a daunting task because we are molding little lives that we love more than our own. We want the best for them and that’s as it should be. But when this becomes an overdesire, we are vulnerable to manipulation.

    If a person or their platform is not gentle, if a person or their platform is holding itself out as a functional savior, if a person or their platform talks and acts as if it is gospel, if it uses fear, if the tone is sanctimonious or self-righteous and not characterized by grace and humility, be very careful.

    Education is important. It opens doors and opportunities. It shapes us. It matters. But no educational method or model will save your children’s minds, bodies, souls, or futures. 

    Friend, know that there is no formula. Instead, know that there is freedom. Recognize that fear is a powerful but counterfeit task-master. Examine your ideals and see if they’ve actually become idols…like mine had. 

    And finally, whatever educational route you choose, be mindful that the community around you still needs the light and the love you have to offer. Don’t see it as one more thing on a to-do list. See it simply as showing up. See it as “reweaving shalom” in your community. 

    Simply allow yourself to be filled up and let God do his thing of pouring you out in his time and in his unique way. He has the coolest, most organic process of making it happen, of empowering you to live full and real and unafraid and generous wherever you are. 

    ……………………..


    This is the ninth post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 


    Being Cool About School, a series: 8 Things to Consider if You’re Thinking About Public School



    Friends, I can’t believe we’re finishing the third week of this series. When I began this crazy idea of writing a whole series about school, I thought I might have two weeks of material. It turns out that I’m going to have four weeks. I guess there’s more to say than I realized. 

    Want to know the really crazy part? I could keep going after that. But I won’t. The posts I have planned for next week will wrap things up rather nicely. Also? There are other things I want to write about. Like pom-poms and my new writing nook and our favorite fall things. 

    But we’re not there yet. If you are sick to death of these posts about school, just come back in about week, okay? I’ll try and serve up a post about pumpkin bread and candles and books. Books that I’ve had to stop reading. Because I’m writing this series that will not end.

    But that’s okay because my writing has taken on a deeper sense of purpose during these last few weeks and that has been a rich gift indeed.  

    The first week I shared our own story of school and indecision and weepy days of moving my homeschool books into the attic after we’d put our kids in public school. I spent the following week talking about homeschool, what I loved about it and what I wish I’d done differently. 

    This week I’ve discussed public school and on Wednesday I may have published my longest-ever post in the history of this blog. It broke every best-practices “rule” of blog posts, smashing the suggested 700-word cap by about 7,000 words. Or something in that ballpark, give or take a few thousand. Consider it a free book. Merry Christmas. 

    Today I’d like to speak to those of you who are considering public school. Maybe your kids are still little and you haven’t had to make the decision about how you’ll educate them. But you’re thinking about it. Or perhaps you’re homeschooling or private-schooling but for one reason or fifty, you’re toying with the prospect of public school. If public school is a consideration but you’re not sure if you can really do it or if it’s best or what it will look like, this post is for you. 

    There’s not much I can “answer” for you. Like I mentioned Wednesday, there are a million variables. It depends on your particular school and your particular child and your particular lifestyle. It also depends a lot on you, the parent. There is no identical experience. But there are things you may want to know and consider, everything from calendar freedom to educational approaches to authority issues.

    This isn’t an exhaustive list but it’s a start. Maybe it will get you thinking in some directions your mind and heart haven’t ventured yet. 

    In no particular order, here are some things to consider about public school: 


    1. How tightly do you cling to or idealize a certain model of education?

    A number of people choose alternatives to public school because they’ve found a method or model they like better. Maybe it’s classical education or Montessori or Charlotte Mason. There are many dozens of educational models out there. If your heart is really attached to one of these or a blend of these, even if it’s maybe not working out so well in practice, you might be frustrated by public school. 




    Sure, you may see elements of all sorts of methodologies in public school depending on your particular community, the age of your child, the teacher, etc. But you’re probably not going to find a public school that adheres to your ideal, whatever that may be. Can you let go of that? Does the mere thought of your child learning in any other way than the Classical Model, for example, give you heart palpitations? If so, public school may not be for you. You’ll be frustrated, to say the least. You’ll look at everything your child does or doesn’t do and compare it to the tenets of your model. It will inevitably fall short and look very different. If you can’t cope with that, save yourself the angst and choose something you can better embrace. Or take a hard look at your motivations and see if perhaps your ideal has actually become an idol. 


    2. How well are you able to submit to others in authority over your children?

    It may seem like a silly question but I’m actually quite serious. You are obviously the primary and most important authority figure in your child’s life; this is your God-given privilege and responsibility. As children gradually become older, they are also accountable to individuals and institutions who help us teach and govern them. To a certain extent this is a partnership between you, the parent, and other authority figures. And when authorities collide, sometimes this gets complicated.

    Do you feel the need to defend or explain when someone doesn’t have the whole story about a situation, big or small, in which your child is involved? Can you submit to various protocols even if they seem ridiculous and unnecessary? Would you be able to live with a grade your child receives that you feel is unfair? Are you a “helicopter parent?” 

    How would you naturally handle a situation in which your child gets in trouble for something that’s technically against the rules but that “everyone else” is also getting away with? I’m not talking about big, bad, ugly infractions. I’m talking about bermuda shorts that are half an inch above the dress code standard or eating an Altoid in class or leaving a book in one’s locker, “minor” things like this that are, technically, still a violation of stated rules. 

    How difficult would it be for you if your child sat in a class for a whole year with a teacher whose methods, style, or personality was an affront to you and / or your child?

    Do you see where I’m going with this? If your face turns splotchy and you get a crazy rash on your neck just imagining these situations, well, that’s something to consider. You will encounter all of these realities in one form or another. Probably not all the time or even all that frequently. Can you deal? Can you put on your introspective cap and confront some attitudes that may be off-kilter? 

    I am not talking about wholesale oppression of our kids here. I’m not granting you permission to throw your kid under the bus for the sake of submission to authority. There are times when you’ll encounter a battle worth fighting. My kids are all still rather young and I wouldn’t ever allow them to face a gross injustice. But a little injustice can be a powerful lesson. Constant reminders to submit and respect, even toward those who don’t always earn or deserve it, can be an even greater lesson.


    3. Your lifestyle & vocational calling. 

    This point is a big lengthy but that’s because it’s so significant and personal. Over the years I’ve observed that lifestyle and family schedules, dictated by vocation and other circumstances, are often taken for granted when families consider schooling options. 


    For several years my sister and brother-in-law served as “parents” for at-risk teenage boys. They worked for a faith-based non-profit alongside other amazing families, most of them also raising their own biological children. These families modeled a healthy home life and trained these boys in everything from manual labor to success in school to handling conflict. 

    Their full-time job was parenting. Twenty-four / seven they parented their own kids and parented other kids. When the  boys came home from school, it was busy until bedtime. Matt and Emily helped with homework, picked them up from practices, attended parent / teacher conferences, dealt with discipline issues, and supervised every inch of these boys’ lives. 

    Now, imagine if they had sent their own children to public school while the older boys were also in school. Matt and Emily would have enjoyed little to no time with their own kids. And so my dear sister, who never saw herself homeschooling, chose to homeschool. Not because she thought it was ideal or wonderful, but because it was the best option for them as a family due to the particulars of their vocation. 




    The other house parents they worked with chose the same route for largely the same reasons. 

    I know of families who are vocational farmers and this is an all-encompassing endeavor for the entire family. I know of families in remote rural areas whose children would have to get on the bus while it’s still dark in the morning and who wouldn’t get off that same bus until 5 pm or later.  Public school may not be compatible with the calling and lifestyle of the families. Thank the Lord for options. I hope we continue to live in a land that allows parents the freedom to live and educate in a way that promotes healthy, diverse families and livelihoods. 

    By the way, this same sister and brother-in-law of mine now live about thirty minutes from me and they’re doing different work. Called to live among those they have always had a heart to befriend and serve, they recently bought a home in an urban, rather impoverished area. There are small pockets of revitalization and large swaths of marginalization. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous of the diversity that is their “normal.” Matt and Emily’s white kids, my nieces and nephew, are way in the minority at their neighborhood public school.

    That’s right. The same sister who homeschooled her kids because it was most compatible with their former vocational calling now sends her kids to public schools for the same reason. They moved into this community for a reason, to live shalom and hold out hope. They want to serve by living among those who need a bit of goodwill. Or even a boatload of it. Their meet-the-teacher night required a translator because there were so many non-English-speaking parents. And the administration is already recruiting my sister to serve on the PTO. My brother-in-law is volunteering for much-needed male initiatives and to serve as a school “watchdog.”

    Most lifestyle considerations aren’t as extreme as the ones I’ve mentioned. I’m simply trying to make the point that you have to consider everything from work schedules to kids’ extracurricular endeavors. There’s a reason that kids like Olympic gymnasts, child actors, and Taylor Swift don’t often choose public school. They don’t have the time. Their pursuits require an academic efficiency that public school doesn’t provide. 

    Perhaps your family life requires an efficiency that public school can’t accommodate or your spouse works crazy hours and would never see the kids. For several years my husband was often gone three nights a week because of work. I wish we had tossed these scheduling realities into the mix with our school considerations and appreciated these real-life variables. Sometimes our ideals can squash our common sense. 

    It’s easy to make decisions in isolation. As families, however, one decision affects something or someone else. All of our decisions, our yes’s and our no’s, work together and create a natural cause and effect. Consider your family’s particular lifestyle as you make decisions about school.


    4. Your goals and their gifts. 

    Do you have more of an apprenticeship approach to education? Is it really important to you or to some of your children to have lots of time to pursue individual passions?  Is it important to heavily and explicitly impart your faith into all the subjects your kids are learning?

    I’m not going to provide possible answers for all of these because I can’t. Depending on your public school, “apprenticeship” may or may not be possible. If your kid is a computer genius and he’s building motherboards in your garage into the wee hours of the morning, make sure he’s got time to really pursue this. Your school may provide awesome opportunities to further this passion, like Bill Gates’s school when he was a kid. Or it may not provide any. But if your child has a gift that might change the world, consider whether your schooling option is helping or hurting him. Most of us aren’t raising prodigies but if you are, make sure school isn’t getting in the way of his or her education.

    Regarding faith, I’ve actually become more intentional since my kids have been in public school. I think I feel more pressure to make the most of our opportunities to dialogue. But I’ll be completely honest, there are not enough hours in the day to reinterpret everything your child learns in public school through the lens of faith. If this is a must for you, you’ll be very frustrated. 

    As our kids get older, I want them to know that sacred vs. secular is really a false dichotomy. We believe that it’s all sacred, that our creative God’s imprint is stamped on every part of the universe, that his orderliness is revealed in math, that He has given us his Word in order for us to know him; therefore words and language are a divine and good gift, worthy of understanding and mastery. 

    But am I breaking down every science lesson they have and reteaching it from a Bible worldview? Um, no. We give them guiding principles and we encourage a lot of dialogue about their day and what they’re learning. 

    We engage with it as best we can, given the time we have. It’s not perfect. But if this more general approach is not enough faith-based learning for you, public school may not be a good fit.


    5. Your kids.

    This one point could obviously be a book, right? We are not robots; we are human beings. There is no one-size-fits-all education. That means we sometimes have to try on different “outfits” until we find what works for all of us, kids and parents. 

    If all of your children are pretty “typical,” if they’re able to learn and get it and succeed in a regular school setting, that’s awesome. And if these are your kids, perhaps it’s easy to be less than open to others with kids for whom public school is simply not working. 

    I have one who breezes through school, one who has needed accommodations, and one who seems to be right in the middle. I have two nieces with Down Syndrome. I have plenty of friends who have children with learning disabilities and other challenges. I got an e-mail just this morning from a loved one updating me on their family. Public school has been a huge struggle for their sweet, bright child. Right now they’re doing an on-line public school program while they search for answers and options.



    There is no shame in accepting that the “norm” isn’t working for your kid. And there’s no shame in accepting that your ideal {like homeschooling was for me} isn’t working and so you’re forced to enter into the norm that you hadn’t planned on. Sometimes there is just a lot of “trying on” in the process. 

    And this doesn’t only deal with academic issues; the spiritual and emotional piece is even more important. Certain schools and certain situations and certain peers can be really negative triggers for certain kids. There’s not always a way to predict this but we must respond when the deep waters of our child’s spirit are in dangerous turmoil. Each circumstance is different but public school {or any type of school} is never more important than the physical, emotional, and spiritual health of our kids.  

    In light of all of this, have grace for yourself as a parent. Lavish grace upon your beautiful and unique children. Extend grace to your friends and neighbors who are trying on options that are different from your own. Trust God to lead each of us as we seek to understand how He’s uniquely designed our children and our families. 


    6. How are you with a mandated schedule?

    I won’t lie. A huge appeal for me with homeschooling was not having to rush around and say cuss words and pack lunches and find a missing Nike at 7:30 in the morning. During my first year of homeschooling I had a 6 year old, a 4 year old, and a baby born that November. 

    Even with a new baby, especially with a new baby, homeschooling was a glorious thing where our schedule was concerned. I didn’t have to wake a kid or baby from a nap in order to get kids to or from school. I didn’t have to function or drive in my sleep-deprived state unless we absolutely had to go somewhere. 

    We took vacations when we wanted, took field trips when we wanted, and slept in when we wanted. As my kids got older, I was more strict about starting at a set time but when they were all little, the schedule was rather leisurely. After all of those years in college, grad school, and teaching, I enjoyed the “rest” of a more relaxed schedule. 


    Sometimes I miss the flexibility we enjoyed. My friend in Seattle just told me that their public schools have early dismissals on Wednesdays at noon and a delayed start one morning a week. So now I want to move to Seattle. Sometimes my kids miss the flexibility too. 

    Every option has trade-offs but we try not to define our current school option by what we’re missing. Instead, we try to define it by its overall fruitfulness for our family.

    Still, the schedule thing is a big deal. If you tend to buck the system regarding calendars and times, you need to know that about yourself and proceed accordingly.


    7. Your kids will be exposed to more of the “world?” How do you feel about this?

    We all have different levels of “worldliness” that we can live with. There are things that violate your conscience but not mine and vice versa. 

    I don’t have an easy answer here. 

    Public school means that my kids are “in the world” in a more intense way than they were. This reality sort of breaks my heart and inspires me at the same time. There are conversations we’ve had to have earlier than I’d wanted to. At the same time, there is a lot of unsavory stuff my kids learned early on…when we homeschooled. You’d have to live under a rock in the desert to keep your kids totally “safe.” If you’re going to live in community–with extended family, with neighbors, with friends–your kids will hear and see and know things.

    If they’re in public school, they may simply hear and see and know more of it. Yes, they may become more numb and callous toward sin. Yes, they may be tempted to try on certain words or attitudes or behaviors for themselves. And yes, these possibilities can smother me under a blanket of fear sometimes.

    I have a dear friend whose children are now grown. They did a combination of homeschool, private school, and public school over the years. She’s good and wise to remind me that the evil is not out there; it’s in here. In here meaning that it’s in us, it’s in our kids, it resides in our hearts. When we externalize and regionalize evil, when we assign it to one place and not another place, we make ourselves incredibly vulnerable. We can become less vigilant but more condescending, less concerned about our hearts {and our childrens’ hearts} but more self-righteous. Let us not forget that the religious, law-abiding Pharisees were the real antagonists of Christ while the thieving, lawless, repentant sinner dying beside Him on the cross was the one who joined Jesus in paradise. 

    Wherever our kids go to school, we must turn away from recognizing that the issue is the heart.

    Instead of seeing public school as a place that promotes the world, I’ve decided to see it as place to practice our faith. Every day, we practice. And practice is preparation for how to be in this world but not of this world. I know that they’re going to get it wrong. And I also know that my response is going to be wrong. 

    Because children and teens are so much in formation, so vulnerable and impressionable, it’s scary to plop them down “unattended.” But here’s what I’m learning. They’re not alone. Most importantly, God is with them. But they also have teachers who care and kind friends to join them. They’re subject to rules that help protect their environment, their bodies, their time, and their learning. 

    It is not perfect. No system is perfect. But contrary to some belief, public school is not mob rule and marijuana smoke snaking its ways down the hallways and into our children’s lungs. Are there extremes? Yes. Are there news stories that make me want to live in a bunker? Absolutely. There are healthy fears, to be sure. But fear should not motivate our parenting. This job is monumental and we must draw from a well that is deeper and truer and more life-giving.

    We can view challenging situations with peers as opportunities to pursue relationship restoration or, in some case, to know how to recognize a “fool” and to run. Fast. 

    We can see frustrations with teachers as opportunities to practice submission, respect, and grace. And sometimes, in extreme situations, our children need to see that we totally have their backs and we will not allow certain lines to be crossed.

    Every situation is a sacred opportunity, a springboard to reinterpret real life in the real world through the filter of our faith. 

    Sometimes we hear horror stories and adopt reactionary attitudes that are fatalistic and reductionistic. But you must see for yourself and not swallow someone else’s propaganda or platform because it strikes a chord. 

    We have to keep engaging our kids’ hearts and our kids’ communities, no matter what schooling road we choose. 

    If God, through adverse circumstances or his Word or the leading of his Spirit, is calling you to a schooling option that scares you half to death, run from the fear and into his gentle and humble heart. Take his yoke upon you and rest.


    8. Are you still prepared to homeschool? Because even if you send your kids to public school, you still “homeschool.”

    The complaints and conflict and circumstances your kids bring home from school each day? They’re “educational opportunities.” See all of that stuff above about engaging their hearts and putting everything through the filter of our faith. This is what homeschool really is. You are teaching them at home, in the minivan, when you tuck them in at night, around the dinner table, and when they get in a fight on the basketball court. This is modern-day Deuteronomy 6:6-7. 

    And that’s not all. You’ll help with homework. You may proofread a writing assignment that has to do with a sweatshop factory collapse in Burma. And then you may spend the next 30 minutes talking about all the ways we view labor and all the irresponsible culprits and how does this affect us as Americans. This is homeschool too. 

    Sometimes I struggle to believe this, but we, as parents, are still the greatest influence on our children. If we abandon them, we influence. And if we show up, we influence. How much more do we influence when we can do more than just show up? 

    Last night my daughter and I had a 30 minute ride home in the van, just the two of us. I was weary. She was weary. Several unplanned inconveniences had presented themselves throughout the day. I was unhappy with a certain attitude being displayed. But I’m writing this series and it is the best sort of accountability for me. I’m writing this for whoever wants to read it but you have to know that I’m writing it for me too. I need to know these realities. I need to be confronted and comforted by these truths. I need my own words to remind me how to live out my faith, crazy as that may sound. 

    And so we talked. Well, first we got a chocolate milkshake and then we talked. Amid the venting and the tears, we covered everything from issues of respect to issues of compassion to issues of time management. This too is homeschool. 

    But do you see? It’s not really homeschool or public school or private school that defines us or our kids or determines their future. I just used three separate situations and referred to them as “homeschool” but even that’s not really an accurate reduction. 

    This is simply parenting. 




    ……………………….




    I had two more points to write. Originally this was going to be 10 Things to Consider if You’re Thinking About Public School. But this post is already too long and I feel like each of these points could have been its own separate post. 

    There are so many more considerations than these eight, just like there were so many more considerations in a similar post I did about homeschool. 

    I couldn’t have learned any of this without experience. And much of what you’ll learn will also come through experience. But if I’ve helped to “prime the pump” in your own mind and heart, if I’ve shed a bit of light and testimony here and there, I hope it’s fruitful and helpful. I hope that it leaves you with inspiration and freedom instead of guilt and duty. 

    It’s all grace, my friends. Truly it is. 


    ……………………..



    This is the eighth post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 



    Being Cool About School, a series: How Can We All Care About Our Public Schools? {And Why Should We?}



    During the first week of my kids’ abrupt transition from homeschool to public school, I was back and forth to the front office a good bit handling paperwork and ironing out details. It was the last week before Christmas break, a delightful week of parties and cupcakes and general goodwill. 

    On one of those days, the staff person who runs the front office apologized for being in a hurry. She and one of her helpers had to scurry out to homes and deliver Christmas gifts to kids in our community. They were in a hurry because the deliveries needed to be made before the children got home from school. The school’s “Santa” is rather anonymous and inconspicuous. What mattered was that these kids in need received their gifts. Kids who may not have received gifts if not for the school. Kids who were writing and reading and eating cupcakes alongside my own kids. 

    I stood there at the front desk a bit baffled. The school took gifts to its own disadvantaged children? 

    On that December day, I received an ironic invitation: to be part of a needy and generous community.

    Because no matter how you educate your own kids, the schools in your town are a significant part of your community. Though we all play various roles and feel called to serve our community and its children in different ways, I’m afraid that our heads are in the sand if we think our public schools aren’t relevant to us simply because we choose to homeschool or private school our own children.

    I’m a rather strange bird who, despite dreaming of a classical private school utopia for my own children and then homeschooling, has always had an abiding appreciation for public schools. Maybe it’s because I come from a long line of teachers. All four of my grandparents taught in the public schools, as did my mom. My husband and I are both products of public school, K-12.

    For better and for worse, much has changed about our schools in recent years. Strong opinions abound. The critics’ voices on all extremes of the political and religious spectrums scream for our attention and our allegiance. I sometimes worry that the actual children end up drowning in a sea of rhetoric and red tape. I mean, they are the reason education exists, are they not?

    But despite the inefficiencies and weaknesses of public education, despite the polarization and politics, I still thank God for our nation’s schools. I thank Him for those who are called to teach the gifted children, the struggling learners, the middling masses, and the precious ones with special needs. 




    I thank him for those who help teach my own children.

    Many say that our public school system is broken. If I only read the headlines or listened to those motivated by the politics and platforms of fear, I’d probably agree. But I don’t say that it’s broken. I say that it’s bent. Badly bent in some places with failing schools that often mirror failing communities, but strong and true in other places with inspired learners and relatively stable locales.  

    There are a million variables and therefore just as many different outcomes regarding our kids’ security and successes in public schools. Comparing one public school to another school just thirty minutes down the road can be like comparing a 2014 Lexus to a 1970s station wagon with fake wood paneling peeling off the sides. They’re both automobiles. They’re each designed for the same purpose. The Lexus will definitely get you where you need to go. The peeling station wagon is supposed to get you there, in theory, but the odds are not so much in your favor.

    But we shouldn’t let an institution’s scattered weaknesses and inequalities define it as a whole and cover up the beauty. We shouldn’t allow fear or frustration or firmly-rooted ideologies to tell us to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” We need to be active investigators and participants in our own communities. When we ignore our schools because they’re seemingly irrelevant to us or bent beyond repair, we’ve turned our backs on one of the cornerstones of society.

    Despite its imperfections and frustrations, I believe public schools are God’s common grace to us. 

    As Christians, we’re called to live in this world and to care about it. We’re not all going to be education activists or teachers. We’re not all going to even send our kids to public school. But we are called to care, to vote, to sometimes work to change that which is not fruitful or beneficial or true. 

    My own church recently provided opportunities to help out at our local elementary school during the first weeks of school. People could volunteer to help kindergarteners find their way to their classrooms or work with Good News Club. At other times it’s assembled work teams to help spruce up the school grounds. I hope these small kindnesses communicate a big message: We care about you, our local school. We’re here for you. Let us know how we can serve you and the children in our community. 

    Some of you may be tempted to stop reading at this point. Come on Scooper, are you trying to guilt us into volunteering at schools our kids don’t even attend? 

    Not at all. Volunteerism isn’t even the point of this post. It’s just that I’ve had to think and re-think and pray and cry and un-learn and re-learn so much about this whole issue of school during the last couple of years. I’ve been forced in new ways to consider how my faith informs the instruction of my own kids but how it also informs my attitude and approach toward schools in our community. 

    Those opportunities I listed above? I didn’t help out with any of them. I’m a mom with three kids and was too busy getting them ready for and settled into a new school year. I have some other endeavors of which I’m a part and we can’t do it all. Nor should we even try. There are seasons when we can help and seasons when we cannot. There are opportunities for which our heart leaps and says Yes, I know I’m called to do this and there are opportunities we allow to pass.

    But there is never a season in which we shouldn’t care. 

    The children in our communities matter to God and therefore they matter to us. They are the “least of these,” the “needy,” the “vulnerable.” Sometimes they are the literal “orphans” and the “oppressed” that Scripture clearly and frequently calls us to care for. 

    When Jesus came to earth and did ministry here, he did it incarnationally. Meaning, he “moved in” with the needy, the scandalized, the outcast, and the vulnerable. He sat the children on his lap, despite protests from the grown-ups. 




    He entered into the lives and institutions of communities…and they were changed. For those who are in Christ, He is not only our model; He is our motivation. In Him we live and move and have our being. We can carry grace into the struggling lives and stagnant places of this world because He’s with us. 

    You may be wondering, So what does this have to do with public school, especially if my kids don’t even go there? 

    That’s a good question, one I’ve asked myself a time or ten. Part of the answer lies in this story:

    About seven years ago, my church had a Sunday School class for women. Over the course of the semester, various ladies in the church shared their stories. It was an incredible time, one of the most hopeful and encouraging experiences I’ve ever been part of. Women shared about marriages that shouldn’t have made it but somehow, because of Jesus, are now whole. They shared about overcoming addiction and shame and wretched backgrounds. They shared about second chances and healing. Week after week, one redemption story after another.

    One week my friend Carol {not her real name} shared. Truthfully, she was more of an acquaintance, a kind, thoughtful, and intelligent woman I primarily knew because she taught at my kids’ preschool. I couldn’t have imagined Carol’s story. We never do, really. We look at people in their put-together Sunday demeanor and simply assume that they have always lived somewhat “together” lives.

    But Carol hadn’t. She told a story that revealed a childhood of unspeakable victimization. I marveled that she had been put back together at all after the hell she had lived through. And yet here she was, a wife, a mother, a preschool teacher, a devoted friend to many. She was living, breathing hope and redemption to us.

    I have a reason for sharing her story. Do you know how God held out a lifeline of hope and love to Carol when she was a child and adolescent? By sending Christian friends and teachers her way throughout her public school experience. She told us that public school was her only safe and secure place.

    Carol reminded us that we have a purpose in public schools. She told us that Christian kids and their families saved her and that we never know who our own children, through our influence and encouragement, may be able to love and serve. 

    Though she felt passionately about public education, Carol didn’t have ill will toward those who chose to educate their kids elsewhere. She was a model of grace. I talked with her often after we were homeschooling; she was nothing but kind and supportive. But she knew from the deepest well of experience that Christians have the powerful privilege and opportunity to hold out the hope and love of Christ to so many public school children who, every day, haul in abuse and baggage and unspeakable pain along with their pencils and notebooks and juice boxes. 

    A sidenote: Carol also escaped her troubled childhood through books. In fact, she’s the one who inspired me to read, read, read to my own children. Shortly after she shared, I began reading Charlotte’s Web to my 5-year-old daughter and I’ve been reading to my kids ever since. Seven years later, I’ve just begun the same book with my 5-year-old son. We all have Carol to thank for the many books we’ve enjoyed together over the years. 

    Some of you reading this will know that we lost Carol to cancer not so long ago. I don’t know why certain people seem to endure an inordinate amount of unjust suffering in this life. My consolation is that she is fully whole and safe now, radiant and with Jesus. She influenced so many people throughout her life, myself included. Her plea, to shine a light for struggling kids, continues to echo in my thoughts.  

    I hear some of you now. Scooper, that is an amazing story, one that tugs on heartstrings and inspires. But you sound as if we all need to put our kids in public school in order save the world. 

    I’m not saying that. There are sound arguments to be made for all the ways in which we can educate our children. But for those of us who do have children in public school, we need to be aware of the opportunities before us. I daresay, we have to be aware. For those who don’t have children there, I’ll get to you in a minute.

    In his book, Generous Justice: How God’s Grace Makes Us Just, Tim Keller says this:

    In general, to “do justice” means to live in a way that generates a strong community where human beings can flourish. Specifically, however, to “do justice” means to go to places where the fabric of shalom has broken down… 

    How can we do that? The only way to reweave and strengthen the fabric is by weaving yourself into it. Human beings are like those threads thrown together onto a table. If we keep our money, time, and power to ourselves, for ourselves, instead of sending them out into our neighbors’ lives, then we may be literally on top of one another, but we are not interwoven socially, relationally, financially, or emotionally.


    Friends, we must “reweave shalom.” Shalom literally means complete reconciliation, wholeness, and peace. Shalom impacts and reflects all aspects of society, including its institutions. It’s become one of my favorite words because it’s what we truly, intrinsically long for in our homes, in our relationships, in our communities, and on our earth.

    Though perfect shalom will never be fulfilled on this fallen, sin-scarred globe, we’ve been given an invitation to participate nonetheless. We can practice shalom today, in our communities and in our communities’ schools, where the teachers and leaders and parents of tomorrow are being cared for and trained and befriended by your children.  

    Bringing shalom to the places that need it usually costs us something. Carrying burdens and loving sacrificially always does. But for those who are in Christ, our motivation is not duty or even charity; it’s love. It’s knowing that because of our own great need, Christ put on human flesh and lived among us and died for us. We are made new. We can live free. We know the beauty of hope. We are wild about grace.

    We give because we know how much we’ve been given. 

    Living intentionally in our public schools as we teach, volunteer, and instruct our own children {as best we can} to live the second greatest commandment–love your neighbor as yourself–is no small thing. My own family isn’t a great living example of this. I don’t write  this because we are. I write this because I want to hold out shalom. I want to be mindful of opportunities to serve and befriend and give to those in our path.  

    I have a feeling you do too. 

    This actually has very little to do with volunteering or signing up for the PTO or raising the most money in the fall fundraiser. Though it can be that. It has everything to do with being aware of specific opportunities that come into your family’s sphere of influence.

    For those of you who don’t send your children to public schools or whose children have finished their many years of school, what is my challenge?  

    I simply ask you to care. Put your community’s schools on your radar. Walk in its 5K races, for example, and show your support in a way that works for you…if you can. Do you know men and women who teach there? Encourage them. Pray for them. Thank them for the work they do to teach nearly all of the children in your community. 

    The work they do is tough. Many of the kids in their classrooms are not easy to teach. They are up against family situations and bureaucracy and entitled parents. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t do it. But I am thankful beyond measure for those who do. We should all be thankful.

    Despite the failings we’re quick to highlight about our public schools, I don’t think any of us would want to deal with the brutal realities of a largely uneducated populace. 

    And for those of us who are Christians, imagine the bleak realities of our nation’s schools without any believing teachers, administrators, staff, families, and children. And really, it’s not just a Christian thing. We’re called to act justly and to love mercy. Whatever form mercy takes, whether it’s Oprah or Compassion International or after-school volunteers, I’m grateful. Imagine if everyone simply gave up?

    My years of homeschooling were rather all-consuming. There wasn’t much I could do, tangibly, to support our local schools or be involved in my community. And that is just fine. Raising up little ones is a full-time endeavor. Some days we did well just to get everyone fed and in underpants. This is sacred, noble work, by the way. Who knows how today’s “mundane” tasks of motherhood may impact the world twenty years from now?  

    But I do regret that my overall attitude was rather apathetic during that time. I regret that I didn’t think and pray for those I know who teach and work in our public schools. I regret that I didn’t make more of an effort to engage, even a little bit, in discussions regarding our schools.  

    Simply put, I wish I had cared more, even if there was little I could actually do at the time. 

    Next week concludes the series and I’ll spend some time talking about ways we can come together. But for now let me leave you with this:

    No matter how we school, we all live in a community together. Some folks in our community do life and education very similarly to us. And some don’t. But like it or not, we all play a part. When we’re apathetic toward others in our community, we play a part. And when we’re attentive toward others in our community, we also play a part. 

    The question is, which part do you want to play?

    Shalom is there. She’s in the park. On the football field. At the 5K. In the grocery story. At the local community care office. In your kids’ school.




    She holds out opportunities tailor-made for each of us. A love-starved kid in your child’s class. A tired and discouraged teacher who lives next door. A cause or a club that needs the $10 or $100 you can spare. 

    Will you notice? Will you say yes? Will you hold out your portion of hope and love and wholeness to the community where you live? Will you be an instrument of peace, goodwill, partnership, and encouragement?

    I don’t have a great track record. I haven’t noticed like I’ve really wanted to. But I’d like to change that. Maybe you do too. 

    Let’s notice together. 


    ……………………



    This is the seventh post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 


    Being Cool About School, a series: 5 Gifts in Our Transition from Homeschool to Public School



    I’ve spent the last two weeks writing about this important thing of how we school. I’ve shared our own journey as we’ve anguished over how to educate our children and how we’ve made peace with decisions. A couple of posts then focused on the realities of homeschooling for us–the beautiful aspects and the messy parts. I shared the things I wish I’d known and how I’d do it differently. 


    Many of you have told me how much the posts have helped you sort through some of your own ideas and concerns. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and kind words in response to this series. I’m humbled and honored to be a voice of encouragement. But can I be perfectly honest? Writing about all of this has helped me too. 

    As I’ve recorded our own journey in a more linear fashion, I’ve been able to continue coming to terms with life’s decisions. Not life as I’d planned it but life as I now gratefully receive it. This series has been unexpectedly therapeutic and freeing for me. If it’s helped you, I’m so glad. It’s helped me too and I thank you for allowing me to share our journey.


    As you know, my kids are now in public school, a place I didn’t think we’d be if you asked me a couple of years ago. At least, a place I didn’t think we’d be yet. But God saw fit to plant our feet on a different path and though it is not necessary an easier path, it’s the one we’re to be on for now and I’m grateful for the “re-routing.” As I mentioned in an earlier post, it is not the place I would have chosen at first but it is the place I now embrace. A place of grace.

    So I’d like to spend the next couple of posts talking openly about public school. Today’s post will focus on five gifts we’ve received in the transition from homeschool to public school. 

    Now that we’re almost two years into our public school experience, I can speak with a bit more clarity and perspective about public school’s “gifts” to our family during this season of our lives. Some of these are generalities that may apply to many of you. And some of these are particular to our family. 


    1. It’s strengthened my relationships with my kids.

    That may sound weird to many of you. But placing my kids in school has enabled me to focus solely on being their mom instead of being their teacher and their mom. 

    Though I was an educator in my “former life” and still love teaching, I had no idea how draining the daily life of teaching my own children had become. The planning, the supervising, the engaging, the grading, the question-answering, the helping, the actual teaching and explaining. And not just one subject, but all of them. 

    Combine those tasks with the regular discipline, correction, and general child-rearing that goes along with motherhood. No wonder I had so little left for anyone else, including my own children. This may sound harsh but after four-and-a-half years of homeschooling, the work and constancy of teaching them at home had kind of steamrolled much of my joy for motherhood. Joy that I desperately wanted and needed. 




    I’ve spoken with other moms who feel that homeschooling actually strengthened their relationships with their children and imparted greater joy into their calling as a mother. I can understand that. There were seasons in which I experienced that for myself as well. But the cumulative effect of homeschooling plus mothering plus dealing with some other really hard stuff on top of everything else had done me in. I was running on empty. Twenty months later, I have more of the joy and strength for motherhood that I went without for a long time. 


    2. It’s strengthened my relationship with my husband.

    I have so much more to give him now that I’m not doing the full-time job of homeschooling. I’m better able to prioritize the energy and devotion I pour into my marriage. He receives more from me now than an end-of-the-day list of all the ways I’m drained and discouraged. {Well, most days he does.} 

    Though I knew my marriage was the most important relationship, functionally it had become very difficult to make that happen day in and day out. We suffered for it. Homeschooling was not at all the most important factor in all of this but we both recognize that teaching our children at home was not worth the energy and health it took from me, energy and health that I didn’t have for my most important relationship.

    Thankfully, God has been immeasurably gracious, kind, and merciful. He has granted us repentance, wisdom, mercy, and grace. 

    Removing homeschooling from my plate has injected new life and energy into our marriage and further cemented our union. It’s enabled us to have the partnership we need in order to live intentionally and make decisions together about the myriad dilemmas and situations that arise every single day in the life of our family.


    3. It’s strengthened my relationships with others.

    I’m an introvert by nature. Though I love people, cherish meaningful time with others, and am not on the extreme end of the introversion spectrum, I am nonetheless drained by human beings. Tiny ones included. Especially tiny ones. 

    I have this theory that one child actually equals five grown-ups in their capacity to deplete your social energy. With that kind of math, I now realize that I had the equivalent of 15 people with me in my home every single hour of the day and needing me virtually all the time. One of my dearest friends has seven kids so she has the equivalent of 35 people needing her all the time. Well, more like 20…because her kids are much sweeter and more compliant than mine are. 

    What is my point in all of this ridiculous and very unscientific people math? Homeschooling nearly squashed my capacity to socialize beyond the four walls of my home. I still made myself socialize. I went to church. I talked to my neighbors…sometimes. We attended a once-a-week homeschool group…and I found myself wanting to sleep the rest of the day after we got home. Friends would invite me for coffee in the evening and they might as well have asked me to go climb Mt. Everest with them. 

    But now? I’m beginning to like people again. I mean, I never hated them; I was simply too tired to be with them very much. Space, rest, and solitude have refueled me to the point that I’m beginning to feel like my old self. The self that looks forward to fellowship and coffee with friends and visiting with the other moms on the soccer sidelines. It’s a relief. At the rate I was going, I fully expected to be a crazy hermit lady living in a cave with unclipped toe-nails and a horde of cats by the time I was 50. 

    Community is not an optional add-on. It’s what we’re called to. It’s what we’re created for. When life is so out of balance that you’ve ceased to care about community, it’s worth looking into. My husband and I both feel that we’re regaining the “where-with-all” to actually focus and really enjoy relationships beyond those of our family. And that’s not just a good thing; it’s a necessary thing. 

    As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, putting our kids in public school has not made parenting or life in general that much easier. You swap one set of challenges for another. You swap one busy part of the day for a different busy part of the day. But it has restored a sense of balance and wholeness that was missing. It’s certainly not the biggest factor in our family’s growth over the last two years but it has been an important part of making us healthier and more functional as a family. And that sort of fruitfulness has a way of spilling over into the world around us in the form of community and ministry and hopeful opportunities. 





    4. My kids need other teachers. 

    It’s been good for my kids to be accountable to authority beyond my husband and me. It’s been a joy to watch them light up because of their teachers’ enthusiasm for certain subjects. It’s awakened them to possibility and other ways of learning. Though my kids come home with complaints about this or that, they also come home, week after week, gushing about something amazing they’ve learned or an awesome experiment they’ve gotten to do, or how much they love this or that teacher. 

    But what about the bad teachers? you may ask. Surely you don’t think they need bad teachers? Actually, I think they need both. {And let’s face it, Mary Poppins I am not. There were plenty of lackluster homeschool days in which my kids had a “bad teacher.”}

    You may think I’m crazy for saying this but I consider everything to be part of their education, even less-than-desirable teachers. Because here’s the thing: life will give us “bad” teachers and “bad” bosses and corrupt authority from time to time. We won’t typically have the luxury to overthrow or reject authority figures simply because we don’t like them or agree with how they’re doing their job. 

    Our family has been fortunate and I don’t take it for granted. We’re in great schools and have had mostly wonderful experiences with teachers thus far. Mostly. 

    But when we haven’t, we’ve still gotten an education:

    -Avoiding an entitlement mentality. 
    -Showing grace and forgiveness. 
    -Understanding that teachers are human beings and have bad days too. 
    -Learning to be assertive and go to the teacher respectfully. -Accepting consequences and correction even when other kids got away with something and you were the only one singled out. 

    These are not fun lessons to learn. But they are necessary ones. And they are just as much a part of education as math and reading. Negative interactions, if not dealt with at a heart level, can foster bitterness. But these same interactions, if guided by wisdom, can actually foster growth in grace. 


    5. I’ve realized they’re not alone. And neither am I.

    Despite what some ardent anti-public-school activists may tell us, putting our kids in public school is not simply throwing our precious children to the wolves. I mean, it can be if you’re not going to be involved and intentional about it, but it doesn’t have to be. 

    I’m not at my kids’ schools as often as plenty of other volunteer moms. But I am vigilant about forcing my kids to “unpack” their days. And I’m also vigilant about paying attention to changes in attitude, mood, influences and other intangibles which serve as warnings that something may be amiss.

    Why? When you relinquish a portion of control and give up your own presence with them seven hours {or more} a day, there’s going to be plenty you don’t know and see. Sometimes we have to read between the lines. I won’t lie. This terrifies me sometimes. I realize there’s a whole lot I’m not privy to. 

    But here’s the powerful truth: God knows.

    And He’s not only their Father; He’s mine. 

    There are two verses that I’ve recently gathered great strength and comfort from as I’ve pondered and processed my kids’ move into public school.

    The first verse is from Isaiah 40:11.

    He tends his flock like a shepherd:

        He gathers the lambs in his arms

    and carries them close to his heart;

        he gently leads those that have young.


    This means I can trust the Father to gently lead me as I lead my children. Even though I’m not with them, I know He is. I can actually rest in that. Even though I don’t see things, I know He does. It forces me to trust God with my children in a way I haven’t had to yet. And it reminds me that He has a special compassion for parents. 


    But how will He show us how to lead them?

    Well, He leads us through his Word. But He also leads us in another way, a deeply personal and specific way.

    That’s where the second verse comes in. It’s from John 14:16-18. Jesus is speaking with his disciples who are greatly distressed that’s He’s leaving them. But Jesus comforts them with this promise that they will not actually be alone:

    And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

    This “helper,” this “advocate” that we have is the Holy Spirit. When I read this familiar verse a couple of weeks ago, it struck me in a new way as it relates to my children. We have help. We have not been left as orphans. We are promised counsel from the source of all knowledge and wisdom.

    This has brought fresh comfort and strength as I relinquish my own presence with my children for a portion of the day. Often I don’t know what’s really going on in the hearts of my kids. I can see certain symptoms and behaviors, the good and the bad, but I don’t always know what’s at the root. 


    I’ve been so convicted that I don’t pray for more wisdom and help to see what I need to see. I pray for my kids’ protection every day. But rarely do I ask God to reveal, through the counsel and help of the Holy Spirit, what I need to see about their hearts.

    Homeschooling can give us a false sense of control. But public schooling can give us a false sense of being out-of-control. 

    And both extremes can blind us to the reality that God is ultimately the one in control. 

    He’s leading those of us with young. He’s promised us a divine helper and an advocate, and He’s told us that in all things He works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

    Where is your trust? 

    Is it in you, the parent? Is it in the way you school? Or is it in the One who leads us as a shepherd with sovereign love and grace?

    I’m still prone to worry over these weighty decisions and realities about school. At times I struggle with missing our days of living and learning together. But I’m realizing that none of us are alone, even though we’re no longer together in the way we were day after day, year after year. Sometimes this is sad. Sometimes this is restful. Sometimes this is freeing. 

    Often it is scary. 

    But I don’t want fear to motivate my decisions and motor my thoughts. God is with us and with our children, wherever we are, leading and guiding and revealing. 

    Take counsel from Him instead of taking counsel from your fears.


    ……………………..



    There’s more to say about the public school transition than the five points I’ve mentioned here. These are just the reflections and realizations that are particularly meaningful to me right now. They’re really just the tip of the iceberg and I look forward to sharing more.

    If you’re on the fence about how to school or if you’ve just made a similar transition yourself, I encourage you to look for the gifts and to trust that there are lessons and blessings in the midst of some of the less-than-ideal realities. 


    In case you’re curious, here’s how I’m planning to wrap up the series:

    On Wednesday I hope to share some thoughts on how we might approaching our communities’ public schools, regardless of whether we send our own kids there. 

    On Friday I plan to discuss some issues you may want to consider before you make the switch from homeschool or private school to public school. 
    Next week I’ll finally finish up the series with my favorite {and most nerve-wracking} posts: How can we come together? And somewhere in the midst of all of this, I want to fit in some thoughts on recognizing fear-based motivation in favor of one way of schooling over another.


    ……………………

    This is the sixth post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 


    Being Cool About School, a series: A Letter to My Homeschooling Self {What I Wish I’d Known}




    Hindsight is 20 / 20 right? Or in this case, hindsight regarding my kids’ education is better than blindness. Honestly, I was pitifully clueless about so many things at the beginning of this journey. But after years of homeschooling through good days, bad days, and lets-just-forget-this-one-ever-happened days, I’ve learned a thing of two about where I wish I’d put my time, energy, thoughts, and money.


    This is the letter written to my striving, naive, well-intentioned, six-years-ago self. The post in which I hold her hand, push aside her pile of books written by homeschooling experts, close her laptop with all of the curriculum company windows open, and speak with gentle candor, face-to-face.

    Here’s what I tell her:

    Darling mother with the noblest of plans but no real clue about what’s actually doable, choose curricula with yourself in mind. Don’t purchase a certain math just because it gets the best reviews and supposedly enables your child to complete their high school arithmetic credits by the age of 15. What is even the point of that? Choose what makes sense to you. Choose what you can teach relatively well and easily. 

    Focus on the academic basics. You don’t need a language arts program that also incorporates drawing and Bible verses and keepsakes. You need simple programs that teach your children to read proficiently and write well. There is a time and place for grammar. Don’t stress much about it though. So much of good writing is modeled through good books.

    And speaking of books, read as many as you can to your kids for as many years as they’ll let you. Don’t feel badly that you’re not doing as much “work” with them. {And for any of Scooper’s homeschooling friends also reading this letter, if this is not your thing and reading to your own kids puts you to sleep or encroaches upon other needful things, no worries. Your kids can read to themselves and read to one another.} Keep books on CD in the car and keep exposing them to great stories. You’ll be amazed at how well they’ll speak and write just from being exposed to language.

    There are many wonderful things to memorize: geography, poems, history timelines, presidents, and words in foreign languages. But what do you really want them to know? All of these things will pass away but the Word of God stands forever. Hide it in their hearts now. Knowing the states and capitals will not bring them consolation during the hard days when they’re away at college or when they’re at a loss to understand how to answer the big questions in life. We know that the Word does not return void. Passages that mean nothing now may speak life to him when he’s 40 years old and face to face with life’s harsh realities.

    Right now you’re looking around at all you have to do. It’s never-ending. The dishes, the laundry, the meals, the math, the lesson plans, the child-rearing, the grading, the piano practice. Guess what? You don’t have to do all of this. You shouldn’t do all of this. Honey, homeschooling is not part and parcel of motherhood; it is above and beyond the call of motherhood. It is extra. Do you hear me? It is a full-time job. And here’s the thing: you get paid for jobs. Read this post on “paying yourself.” {It explains the whole thing.} No, I’m not necessarily talking about paying yourself a salary. I’m talking about paying yourself with currency that is meaningful to you and that gives you a break, currency that may clean your house and save your sanity. 

    Because here’s the thing. Your time? Your energy? Your health? They’re consumable. Not only that but they’re in short supply. Steward them carefully. As I’ve mentioned before, The world won’t stop spinning on its axis but you may stop spinning on yours. What may feel selfish at first could actually breathe more life into yourself, your home, and the world you influence. That’s a win / win for everybody. Don’t be a martyr mom. Be a wise one.

    All the “fluff” you’re leaving out because you’re concentrating on the basics, it’s not really “fluff.” It has its place too. Art and movement and music–they matter. You just don’t have to incorporate them into all your other academics. If you do, you may find that a certain child will spend at least two hours drawing and coloring with painstaking detail her fold-out timeline and then have no patience or energy left to practice her letters. A lovely keepsake is fine and good…but not if your artistic, perfectionistic child is still illiterate at the end of the year.

    Leave the “fluff” as the reward. Go to the park when your work is done. Get out the art supplies after lunch and let them create masterpieces the rest of the day. Sign her up for music lessons. Do nature walks and bark rubbings. By all means, do these glorious extras. Just don’t stress about making the extras a cross-disciplinary thing. I mean, you can if you want and if it works for your kids but I’m going to give you a heads-up right now. It won’t. Not for yours. You’re welcome.

    Accept who you are and homeschool accordingly. You need more of a break than you give yourself. All of these tiny humans all of the time doing all of the talking and all of the inquiring and all of the needing…I know, why didn’t anyone tell you that your introverted self would be all out of her own words by noon? 

    You have your ways of coping and they’re not at all bad. Like that writing you sneak away to do? You feel like it’s a guilty pleasure you should probably refuse. I get it. You’ve got kids to educate and dinner to fix and math to check. Well, you shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s actually one of your gifts and years from now you’ll finally accept this. God created you to notice and observe, to make meaning out of the ordinary and to connect with others through your words.  

    Now, we can certainly be more disciplined and intentional about this so I propose a plan: hire someone to come do school with the kids a couple of mornings or afternoons a week. And if you don’t have the money from time to time, beg your mom or someone else who loves you. Go sit at Starbucks and put in your headphones. This is your time to think and read and write and stare at the wall. You’ve no idea how restorative this will be. 

    What did I tell you earlier? Homeschooling is a full-time job beyond that of wife and mother and home manager. As much as you’re able, pay yourself by stealing away for some restorative time.

    Prioritize your marriage. Whatever it takes. This should be at the top of the list. You cannot prioritize your marriage if you are exhausted to the point of death most every night when your husband comes home. Grunts and sighs and tears do not actually make for meaningful conversation. Who knew? So if you are this exhausted, you need to do something about it. How about the two of you come up with some strategies together, like farming out some of the subjects or getting a sitter for time away or scrimping a bit on groceries or clothes or cable or whatever so that you can get take-out more often. {Preferably all of the above.} I don’t care what you have to do. In the words of Tim Gunn, make it work. 

    Also, talk more with him about this thing of school and be open and receptive to his honest opinion. Whatever he says, hear it out. Respect it. Ponder it. Do not get defensive. You are raising these kids together. If he wants to help more, let him. If he thinks you need some assistance with things, receive it gladly, regardless of the cost or what other homeschool families are doing {or not doing.} And if he thinks that you need a break and should consider other educational alternatives for a season, listen to him. For the love, listen to him. He sees things that you don’t and he wants to protect you from your own worst enemy: yourself. He loves you and he loves these children that you’re working so hard to disciple and educate. 

    Embrace your children for who they are and not for who you want them to be. They come pre-programmed. Yes, you can help shape and influence them but ultimately you cannot change them. And why is that even your goal? Your children are not merely a gift for you to protect and enjoy; they are unique gifts to the world in which they will one day serve. They were born into a specific time and place for unique purposes. Notice the becoming and let them bloom in their own personal ways. You can discipline and correct while still appreciating the hidden “virtues” buried beneath frustrating aspects of certain character traits. Like that one’s strong will. And that one’s laid-backness {sometimes laziness.} And that one’s incessant need to make everyone laugh even when it’s totally inappropriate. 

    It takes all kinds to make this world go ’round. Quit thinking that your kids should act or look more like other families’ kids. Conformity is boring and stifling. Love your quirky kids for who they are and not for who you want them to be. Your unconditional love, grace, and support will carry them further than the most well-executed education on the planet.

    You may notice that I’ve given little advice on methods, materials, etc. That’s no accident, my dear. Despite what anyone tells you {and believe me, lots of slick and smart “experts” out there will tell you that methodology is king and content is queen}, how you teach and the curricula you employ is rather far down the list. I know, you are shocked to hear this because you’ve invested so much of your precious time and brainpower researching exactly how to do this and what to use.

    So then, what is important? Well, this last bit of advice sort of overlaps with how I began this letter. Homeschool in a way that is practical for you and for the needs / lifestyle of your family. Because no matter how lovely and appealing the ideal is, it will get knocked down by the real each and every time. No curriculum can make you an extrovert when you’re an introvert. No curriculum can make your child do back flips over art appreciation when all he wants to do is play soccer and read Diary of a Wimpy Kid books over and over. 

    My friend recently told me her teenage son has hated all forms of art and art education for years–homeschool, private school, and co-op. Regardless of the how it’s done, he simply despises art. She said that her son sees God and all of the world through a football helmet. I laughed. Not because it’s crazy but because it’s true. 

    Yes, we all have to learn things we may never use or fully appreciate. That’s part of life and part of education. But don’t stress over the things they hate; respect these subjects and give them their due. Pay close attention, however, to the things your kids love and then do all that you can to encourage these God-given interests.

    Your God-given interests matter too. Do what you love to do with them. They may not ever love American History the way you do but I think a little of the enthusiasm will rub off. Talk about slavery and abolitionism with the same zeal that inspired your college students. Bake desserts more often. {But only one at a time because all three of them? Crazy town.} Get creative together and fill the house with beauty. See what I’m saying? Enjoy some of your own hobbies with them and let your personal enthusiasm for these favorite things overflow into their lives.


    ………………….




    Dear one, there’s so much more I could tell you. Homeschooling can be a beautiful way to live and learn. Cherish these days as best you can but pace yourself and do not feel guilty about getting the space, rest, and help that you need. This endeavor doesn’t need to be as stressful as you make it. You can be disciplined and do this well while also having fun and being more reasonable in your approach. 

    Please hear me on this: If it’s not doable, it’s not worth it. If it’s making life or personal wholeness quite off-balance, it’s not worth it. And if it’s hindering your marriage in some way, it’s definitely not worth it.

    If you ever catch yourself thinking thoughts or saying things that hint about homeschooling being worthier or holier or inherently better than other ways of learning {and you will…sad to say}, just stop it. It may be the better thing for your family right now but it is not a superior thing. Self-righteous attitudes about education are the root of a whole lot of trouble. 

    Never say never about other schooling options because, well, you can’t possibly know what the future holds. Enjoy what you have now but hold it loosely and with grace. Remember, this lifestyle is a gift for the present, not a given forever. 

    So lighten up, pile on the sofa, read some books, and then take a nap while your kids watch a Planet Earth documentary on Netflix. And when your husband suggests that you take the evening off from cooking and order take-out? Say yes, be grateful, and love him well.

    …………………………………


    This is the fifth post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 



    How a Waffle House Relapse Saved My Soul. Or at Least My Day.




    Today began with a bad, bad morning. So bad that I still do not have the energy or desire to think of a more descriptive adjective than “bad.” 

    My fancy Keurig broke so I had to resort to the French press, which makes fantastic but very labor-intensive coffee. I do not do labor-intensive anything at 5:15 am. Nonetheless, I knew I had to suck down at least eight ounces of caffeine in order to get out the door and so I made coffee in the French press like a Neanderthal. 

    Upon pouring the boiling water from the tea kettle into the carafe, the kettle’s lid plopped into the press, splashing grounds and scalding water all over the counter and my fingers. Lovely, I thought. The day has barely begun and I am already cussing, covered in sludge, and nursing burned appendages.

    The pre-dawn run with my friend was good and necessary but it was basically downhill from there. I arrived home to find the house and its inhabitants in a state of distress. One child had a single uncompleted math equation and the world as she knew it was surely over. Another child refused to eat the oatmeal because of the “weird, hot, brown, chunks” and yet another admitted that he’d left his lunchbox and water bottle at school. For the second time in a week. My daughter’s cheer bag was full of crushed cracker bits and we stressed that the crumbs would become lodged in the polyester weave of the uniform. And we forgot the bow. The child with the forgotten lunch box at school also forgot his binder and math book at home. We realized this 10 minutes after he had left with my neighbor with whom we carpool. Vital math instruction was un-textable from my dear husband at home because of a bad signal at the middle school and said distressed child was dropped off, frenzied and undone at the start of a very long day.

    En route to the elementary school to drop off forgotten binder and book {partially my fault because it blended in with the pile of clean laundry adjacent to it}, I called my husband and began listing all the ways that mornings like this can and should be avoided. I bemoaned the chaos and rambled on about how my “poor nerves” simply cannot take it. Oh I was having a Mrs. Bennet moment alright and my dear husband just listened on the other end like kind Mr. Bennet sitting in his office, calming tending to his rare orchids while I prattled on about my weak constitution. 

    He gently reminded me that we have just begun, that we are still getting adjusted, that his work schedule calms down after this week, and that we all forget stuff, like math books. And paying the water bill. 

    You know, I think I’m relatively organized and prepared. I do. And then on a day like today, I imagine that I’m being ambushed by some masochistic troll who is certainly lurking in the recesses of our home, throwing flaming darts of unexpected, stress-inducing trivialities directly at my “nerves.” 

    After I delivered the abandoned binder and math book to the school’s front desk, I made a quick stop at Wal-Mart to pick up some groceries. That I forgot to purchase yesterday. When I also went to the grocery. Foggy and distracted from the scattered events of the morning, I stopped at the gas station and narrowly avoided the tragedy of filling up my Toyota Sienna with 15 gallons of diesel fuel. 

    It is only 9 freaking 22. This day is surely doomed, I told myself. 

    And then, salvation in the form of an iconic yellow and black restaurant sign. Cue the angels singing.

    Trembling with hunger, fatigue, anxiety, and guilt, what I really wanted was a stiff drink. I’m not gonna lie. But since it was only 9:30 in the a.m. and that stands in direct opposition to my moral convictions and common sense, I said, What the hell? and settled for grease. 

    {When the day has begun this harshly, one does not use substitutionary cuss words like “heck.” One says what she says and blames the Evil Ovary.} 

    The Waffle House across the street beckoned like a sultry Siren of comfort food and limitless coffee.

    You already know what I did. I pulled into parking lot, ravenous and trance-like. Before I exited the van, I knew I need to “get centered.” I read Romans 12 on my iPhone’s Bible, prayed desperately that Jesus would help me and all my loved ones today, promised not to say any more cuss words or be mean to people, said Amen, walked confidently into the Waffle House, and dared anyone I knew to judge me. 

    The waitress asked if it would just be me. I nodded and thought to myself, Yes. Praise Jesus, yes. It will only be me. 

    And then she said the magic words: Honey, our All American Breakfast is just $5 today. 

    I didn’t think twice about it.

    When the buffet o’ sodium clinked down on the formica tabletop, I took one look and knew that the calories burned during the three miles I’d run at 0-dark-thirty would not even cover the lake of margarine whose glistening neon-yellow sheen matched my over-medium egg yolks laid by a sub-par chicken in a shameful poultry factory. 

    There are worse things, I reasoned.

    I smiled and breathed easy for the first time in four-and-a-half hours. A female country crooner blared over the speakers, I’m hell on wheels, Sugar Daddy I’m comin’ for you…

    Yes, I thought, This is exactly the flavor of sanity and consolation I needed today. Local color, bottomless coffee, grits, Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird sitting adjacent to the extra-crispy bacon, and classic people-watching.




    At one point, I looked up from my book to notice an older man who ambled in and made his way to the counter. The whole upper back side of his jeans were soaked through until they resembled damp, one-dimensional silhouettes of watermelons. Bless him, I thought to myself. Here I am thinking I’ve had a rough morning. 

    And then I noticed that he had ridden in on a tractor, which explained the wet watermelon silhouettes. 

    When I was a working mom and then a homeschool mom, I often wondered, rather resentfully at times, what stay-at-home-moms with kids in school did with all of their free time. Now I know. They visit the Waffle House and ponder the back-sides of old men.

    I finally arrived home, smelling like cigarette smoke and bacon but feeling like I could do this day after all. I’d shown myself some much-needed kindness and it gave me courage to persevere.

    I’ll never understand the ironic phenomenon I experience over and over again: I do a better job of coping with the catastrophic than I do coping with the common. 

    I’ve endured days turned months of legitimately rough times. Days that make today look like a Disneyworld. I’ve experienced crises and trials that could have undone me for good. And during those challenging times, I manage to sort of keep it together. By God’s grace, I’m able to deal, to soldier on, to approach terrible circumstances with relative calm and clarity.

    It’s the everyday drama that gets me. It’s the forgotten math book that forces me to subject myself to a grease-induced coma, compliments of the local Waffle House.   

    So what’s the take-away from this crazy, interruptive post of randomness about diners and diesel fuel near-misses?  

    Well, I’ll tell you.

    Be kind to yourself today. 

    Or whatever day the Evil Ovary decides to reign, along with her minions of chaotic inconveniences and first-world stresses. 

    Receive a good gift and be nourished. 

    Swing through the Starbucks drive-thru before pick-up line or tell your kiddos at home with you to just take a break and watch PBS Kids and not need you for a few minutes because Mama needs a relaxing soak or 30 minutes with a book or just some time to inhale God’s love and exhale prayer.

    Treat yourself as you’d treat a dear friend who showed up on your doorstep in tears and emotional distress. You would not say, Suck it up, sister. We all have bad days so get over your big self. Think of all the other people in the world who have it worse than you do, those who are starving or imprisoned, for example. See? You don’t have it so bad. 

    At least I hope you wouldn’t say that. 

    You’d invite her in, give her a hug, fix a cup of tea, and grab the box of tissues. You’d care for her and make her laugh and feed her soul with warm drink, a bar of chocolate, and perhaps a trip to the nearest Waffle House for the $5 All American breakfast if you’re feeling really generous to your friend and apathetic about your own health. You’d both know that it could indeed be worse and you would resolve to be grateful instead of grumpy and you would laugh about the mishaps and missteps. 

    And then she would feel better. Why? Because someone was kind to her and she was able to receive enough grace to refuel her empty tank and become functional again.

    Treat yourself the way you’d treat her. 

    If you’re running on empty, take time to refuel {but not with the diesel} and love on yourself so that you can better love on the sweet souls who need you. Kindness to yourself has a way of spilling over into kindness to those around you.

    Don’t rationalize your rough patch. Don’t wallow in guilt that It could be so much worse so why can’t I cope? Pick one small thing that is actually one great act of love to yourself and then carry on.

    Sometimes that moment {or two hours at the Waffle House} of self-care provides necessary space to think, breathe, banish your headache, practice gratitude, learn how to be nice again, and, in my case, stumble upon a much-needed exercise in creative writing on diner napkins.




    So go and do likewise, my weary, hormonal friends. I give you permission. And if you inexplicably find yourself in the Waffle House parking lot, the All American breakfast is just $5 Monday-Friday right now. My sweet waitress told me to tell you. So there you go.  


    ………………………..


    Come back tomorrow and tune in for the next installment of the Being Cool About School series. I’d planned to finish it this morning but with all the mishaps and the Waffle House episode, I resolved to wait until tomorrow. 

    Being Cool About School, a series: 8 Reasons I’m Glad We Homeschooled



    I’ve said before that this is not an either / or series. We don’t do public school now to the exclusion of our fondness and respect for homeschooling. 

    I do not regret a single day of our daily living and learning years together at home.

    While this is no longer our lifestyle and I’m at peace with that, there are things I miss about homeschooling and that’s what this post is about–the blessings and rich lessons from our five years of doing school “around the kitchen table.” 

    What’s the purpose in writing a post like this? It’s certainly not to take an indulgent trip down homeschooling memory lane and drag all of you bored readers with me. Well, it’s not entirely that.  

    I think it serves several purposes actually. First, if you’ve been homeschooling for a while and feel like you’re in a zombied state of monotony, perhaps this post will inspire you to see its gifts and virtues. Second, if you’re thinking about homeschooling in the future, maybe these reflections will help guide your thoughts. Third, if you think homeschoolers are crazy or misguided, this post may help you see a bit of its appeal and loveliness. Finally, I hope this post aids all of us in the art of recognizing that even the hard and messy parts {especially the hard and messy parts?} of an endeavor can in fact be gifts of growth and grace.

    So here they are, in no particular order: 8 reasons I’m glad we homeschooled. 


    1. Reclaiming the time I’d lost and living their little years together. 

    As I mentioned in Our Story, Part 1, I had been a working mom until my oldest child was six. Though I had a very flexible schedule and lots of time off, my mind could not simply rest on marriage, motherhood, and managing our home. Preoccupation with all sorts of things was my M.O. 

    For me, homeschooling allowed us to reclaim the time I felt we’d lost. Our youngest child has never known anything but my complete availability since he was born. He entered the world during our first year of homeschooling and we have been gobbling him up ever since. {If you think I’m boasting in the glory of that “mommy availability” stuff, don’t. This is also why he’s the most spoiled of our three. Availability is therefore not entirely a virtue.}  

    All of those days together during my children’s younger years really bonded us as a family. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a life of bliss each and every day. It was real in every sense of the word. But a mysterious sort of heartstring-tying happened during those four-and-a-half years together and I wouldn’t trade the whole world for it. I’m not saying this is a “should” or an ideal or even an option for every mom. I’m simply saying that it was a good and specific gift to me, a time that helped redeem some years of loss and lament. I’d go so far as to say it ushered in some healing for me as a mother. 


    2. Learning their strengths and weaknesses. 

    It’s true. When you’re with your kids all the time, when you are their teacher as well as their mother, you see what they’re good at and what they’re not so good at. For better or for worse, you have a front row seat to it every. single. day. 

    This is not a perfect lens. As I mentioned in this post, moms can develop blind spots over time. But overall you really know your kids. 

    My oldest was easily frustrated by so many things as a perfectionistic first-grader. Letters that didn’t turn out just right, blends she couldn’t sound out, sketches that didn’t come out on paper the way they dazzled in her mind’s eye. Oh my word, it drove me out of my everlovin’ mind but I learned so much about her. Through much trial and error, we learned to throw out any curricula with “fluff” and focus on the absolute basics. We learned how to talk ourselves through frustrating tasks and stay calm. And not throw pencils. We learned self-control. And yes, I use “we” on purpose. I needed these lessons as much as she did, especially the one about the pencil-throwing. 

    I realize now what a privilege it was to come alongside her. Many days I lost it. Many days. But I’m thankful for the opportunity to have been in the everyday trenches together. Knowing how she’s wired {and how she’s not} has helped me coach her through public school assignments and teach her how to say “no” as life increasingly presents more opportunities that sound good but will overwhelm her physically and mentally. Knowing her quirks has helped me accept and even appreciate that she needs to move her body when she studies, take breaks, and make use of incentives. 

    Can you know your child intimately in these ways if they go to school? Absolutely. You’ve had them since they were born. You know them inside and out. But for certain kids, especially those who tend to be intense, complex, and complicated-ish, they may need a little more “knowing.” I didn’t know it at the time, but homeschooling was a gift for me in this way, especially in regard to this particular child.

    I’ve learned just as much about our boys. They’re just a bit simpler, at least so far. Though all of our children are vastly different from one another, homeschooling and staying at home provided me with a 5-year magnifying glass into the windows of their hearts and minds. Remember, this was a window that I had somewhat missed in my older kids’ earliest years; homeschooling allowed for a bit of catching up.

    For my daughter, that window was from age 6-10. For my oldest son, the window was from age 3-8. And for the youngest, the window was from birth through almost 6. No, I didn’t view them all during the same age and stage but I wholeheartedly trust that I was able to see what I needed to see in order to know and help them throughout their days ahead. This has been a sweet, sweet gift.





    3. We did it. 

    I toyed with the idea of homeschooling for years before I actually tried it. In my mind, it was a beautiful thing. In reality, it was a beautiful thing and also a stressful thing and an exhausting thing and a complicated thing. And so many other things I’d never know if I hadn’t tried. 

    Perhaps “We did it” is a superficial item on the list. But I know myself and I know that if we had never done it, I’d always wonder “what if?” and probably live with some regret. 


    4. Obedience and rest in God’s calling. 

    Though I really anguished over whether to homeschool, once I arrived at the decision, I embraced the “call” to do it and found rest for my soul when circumstances made me wishy washy. Yes, I’d made an extensive pros and cons list, read books, talked at length with my husband, and had coffee with homeschool moms to pick their brains. 

    But in the end, confirmation came through prayer and Scripture and leading of the Holy Spirit. Psalm 25, the passage that God used to really cement this decision for me, has nothing to do with children or education. But it has a lot to do with fear, trust, and redemption. I printed out the passage and kept it on my fridge for years as a reminder that our trust was in God and that He had led us down the path of homeschooling for a time and for a purpose. We surrendered the endeavor to Him in the beginning when we said yes and we surrendered the endeavor to Him in the end when we let go. 

    I realize now that learning to lean into God’s Word and Spirit was an even sweeter gift than that which He was calling us to do. And then not do. 


    5. Freedom and flexibility in the young, crazy years.

    Want to know what I miss the most about homeschooling? The freedom. Without a doubt. Though there’s a bit less freedom as the kids get older and their studies take more time, I will love every single day that we blew off school and went to visit grandparents or traipsed through the apple orchard or played Monopoly. I miss that a string of sick days are not a big deal. I miss working doubly hard one day because we had fun plans the next day. And don’t even get me started on field trips. 




    My only regret? That we didn’t take more of them. If you’re homeschooling, embrace the flexibility that this lifestyle allows your family. 

    If you’re not homeschooling, it won’t kill any of you to take a day or two off each schoolyear and go do something awesome together as a family during the week. Though I was public-schooled K-12, my dad always said, “Never let school get in the way of your education.” He was great about getting us out of school for all sorts of educational experiences. I hope to do the same now that my own kids are in public school. 


    6. The encouragement among the moms. 

    I’ve said it before. Homeschooling is not “normal” and when you’re going against the grain, you need specific support. We were part of a one-day-a-week homeschool community that was not part of our church, but we were not part of the homeschool community that was connected to our church. So we didn’t really “fit” into any one group but I had a sense of camaraderie with most any mom who homeschooled. Why? Because it’s hard. Oh my word, being the mama and the teacher and rarely getting a break–you need some serious encouragement in a way that a lot of “regular school” families don’t need. 

    But let me quickly say that I now need encouragement in a totally different way. There are pitfalls and pressures and struggles for public school families that require a different sort of encouragement and I have relished the opportunities to pray with and support other public school moms.

    Being totally responsible for your kids’ education is overwhelming. As homeschool moms, we cheered one another on and shared tricks of the trade and had each other’s backs in a way that gave me immense comfort and courage for the hard days. 

    Do you know who some of my greatest encouragers were when I put my kids in public school? The homeschool friends I’d made over the years. They knew me and knew my family. They trusted and affirmed our decision. And as some of them have also made the switch, I’ve been able to return the prayers and cheer them on too. Why? Because this was part of the culture of closeness and encouragement we’d created over the years. I’m so thankful for the ways God continues to weave our stories together.

    If you’re homeschooling and you’re not part of a community, I strongly encourage you to find one. Get together once a week for a park day. Go out to dinner with other moms. It doesn’t have to be a formal co-op or organization. But because homeschool can be an isolating and draining endeavor, it’s important to have the support, friendship, war stories, and counsel of others. 


    7. Moving at our own pace. 

    My three kids are wildly different from one another in personality and in skills. I have one with some specific learning struggles and another who breezes through everything. There’s a third who seems to be somewhere in the middle and who has yet an entirely different set of skills and challenges.

    It was such a blessing in those early years to move at a slower pace in some subjects without the stigma they may have received in school. I’m just being honest. For one particular child, I think it would’ve had some lifelong ramifications.

    For the easy-breezy child, I’m grateful that I could move at a faster pace and hand them book after book to devour and discuss. 

    And for the one who’s somewhere in the middle, I’m grateful for all the days they had to build and work with their hands and hone their strong skills of observation.

    As of right now, all of them are being served where they are and according to their specific gifts and struggles through public school. No, it’s not perfect and it’s not tailor-made the way homeschool was. But so far no one is getting left behind and no one is bored. 

    I’m grateful, however, that we were able to do school in unique ways and at their own paces in the early years.


    8. I learned who I am. And who I’m not. 

    If you think you’re going to learn a lot about the inner workings of your kids when you homeschool, that’s nothing compared to the education you’ll receive about your own self.

    Being with people all the livelong day showed me just how much of an introvert I am. And how selfish I am. And how impatient I am. And how easily distracted I am. And I could go on and on and on…

    I learned that it’s almost more important to choose curricula that suits you as a person than it is to choose the perfect thing for your kids. I found myself thinking violent thoughts on the days I attempted science experiments in the kitchen and wanting to throw the electric pencil sharpener when I tried to impart my personal zeal for American history to my own disinterested children. I learned that I love teaching…but that I do not necessarily love teaching my own kids in the way I thought I would. I learned that I love curriculum shopping and loathe lesson planning. I learned that I coped by hiding under my covers with chocolate and doing pretend shopping online and frequently glancing at the clock by late-afternoon to see if it was 5:00 yet. Can I get a witness?

    I am not exaggerating when I say that homeschooling your kids provides you with a free graduate-level course in self-discovery. What a joy!

    Ahem. 

    Truly, it was often not a joy. But it was good. God helped me overcome some hard days that I couldn’t do in my own strength. He showed me that we are sometimes called and equipped to do things we are not naturally gifted to do. But He also taught me to accept some of the things that got in the way of being a good homeschool mom but that have all sorts of value in other ways. 

    So many of my own strengths and weaknesses floated to the surface during those days. I wish I could’ve embraced them instead of foolishly attempting to change myself or change my kids. {But I’ll talk more about that in another post.}

    Homeschooling gave me the gift of greater self-awareness and acceptance of who I am and who my kids are, as well as who we’re not. Those are gifts that continue to help us all. 

    ………………………



    There are so many things I still value and appreciate from our years of homeschooling. This isn’t even close to an exhaustive list. There are days I wish I could pluck from the past and live all over again because they were so sweet. But since I can’t, I hold them in my mind and heart, thankful for the myriad gifts homeschooling gave our family.

    If you’re currently homeschooling, I encourage you to appreciate its blessings without letting them become idols or non-negotiables. When we turn good things {like flexibility} into ultimate things, it can make letting them go feel like failure or devastation. 

    Enjoy the unique virtues and don’t take them for granted. But hold them loosely. See them as gifts instead of givens.

    My next post: If I had it to do all over again. Ways in which we’d homeschool differently. 

    …………………………………


    This is the fourth post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 
      
    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 


    Being Cool About School, a series: Our Story Part 2 {lessons I learned from letting a good thing go}



    It all changed on an everyday Thursday in December. 


    Perhaps you should consider taking homeschooling off your plate for now. You need space in your life.


    My counselor and my husband looked at me with compassion that was both sure and gentle. It felt like a loving ambush.

    Their faithful but fateful counsel pressed hard on my spirit and elicited a deluge of conflicting emotions and responses. Feeling resistance and relief, I thought of all the reasons this couldn’t work and then prayed against all odds that somehow, it would. 

    The kids aren’t ready, I argued. I haven’t prepared them for this. I don’t have recent test scores to hand over. The school I want them to attend won’t be an option mid-year. I’ve been homeschooling for nearly five years and can these kids of mine even hack it in real school?

    Despite my doubts and protests, deep down I knew they were both right. 

    I just needed permission to let a good thing go. 

    Through a series of quick and miraculous events, my kids started at the public school of our choice just four days after that meeting. Instead of beginning in January, they began during one of the most fun weeks of the year: Christmas party week. The principal invited them to come early, make new friends, meet their teachers, and enjoy a festive week. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

    Though I was open to my kids one day going to school, I assumed I’d spend the entire year prior to their “re-entry” getting them ready and getting myself ready. An entire year to fill in gaps, do the appropriate testing, etc. 

    I had four days. 

    And that was for the best. As it turned out, there was no reason for all of the stress and preparation. They handled the abrupt switch with greater courage and openness than I could have ever imagined. They taught me that I stressed too much and expected too little. During the early part of that journey, I took my cues from them and marveled at God’s goodness to us all.

    Don’t get me wrong, it was not a walk in the park. The first weeks were emotional. I cried a lot. I slept a lot. I had to rearrange the furniture so that it didn’t look like our homeschool. Curriculum and school supplies made we weepy so I had to march them to the attic. Tiny triggers of the everyday we experienced for almost five years seemed to be everywhere. 


    At times the quiet was marvelous and at times the quiet was miserable. 


    I think I felt equal parts grief and relief.


    But I knew that the decision was good and right. I did. My husband especially knew that it was good and right. I don’t know what we’d have done without the comfort and leadership he provided to all of us during the transition. 


    Almost two years later, I still marvel at God’s sweet goodness through it all. 


    Every transition is not that seamless and our story certainly isn’t everyone’s report. I get that. And though the only story I can best tell is my own, perhaps we can set aside the specifics of this particular narrative and still uncover some key lessons learned through letting a good thing go. Hopefully these truths can encourage us all, wherever we are on the map. 



    Lesson 1: Sometimes the best thing is not the best thing if it’s just not realistic. 

    A method or model or system, no matter how noble or ideal, is only as good as the ones {or “one” in my case} carrying it out. 

    Homeschooling, as beautiful as it still is in my mind and in my memories for those four-and-a-half years, is not worth one’s physical health, marriage, or sanity. 

    Sometimes we have to put a stake in the ground and pin down the bare bones priorities. Everything else is negotiable. 

    For me, it wasn’t so much the carrying out of the homeschool responsibilities. My older kids were becoming fairly independent and relatively compliant learners. But we were with one another all the time. I was constantly overseeing something and being needed either directly or indirectly. My days hinged upon my productivity and the productivity of my student-children. 

    While I think I could have managed all of that during a season of relative stability, the cumulative stress of the previous years {that had nothing to do with homeschooling} had begun to weigh heavily until I was edgy and breathless from the dangerous combination of baggage and busyness.

    My counselor and my husband were wise. I needed space. Space to rest and time to heal.


    Lesson 2: There is a difference between productivity and fruitfulness.


    Sometimes stillness is the most fruitful thing a person can do. This notion rocked my world and I’d be lying if I said I had it all figured out. 


    But I do know this. I had become a mommy martyr, determined to keep doing the “right thing” for my kids even if it killed me. Sending my kids to public school allowed all of us to get a bit of space while I came up for air.

    God has granted tremendous physical and emotional healing over the last 20 months. I’m realizing that he’s ushering me out of that season of rest and into a season that’s bearing fruit because of those many months of rest and renewal.




    Rest is now more of a discipline, a practice of margin and boundaries in my own life and in our family life rather than a raw and immediate need to lie down or do nothing. 


    But for a year and a half, while my kids were getting an education in public school, I was getting an education in rest and recovery. As I said in that post, 

    I have allowed myself to be brainwashed by the world of martyr moms {or so they seem}. Therefore, rest feels like I’m disobeying my culture; admitting that I actually rest feels like treachery. 

    Self-care may look a bit different for each of us but when it’s really a necessary and life-saving / family-saving endeavor, perhaps we should think of it as stewardship instead of selfishness… 

    If you’re hanging by a thread, if your margin is in the negative, if you’re so exhausted and frazzled you can hardly see straight, don’t look at others and determine how you measure up. Look at yourself and determine how you’re holding up.        

    Maybe you need to say no or pull back, resign or rethink.  

    The world won’t stop spinning on its axis but you may stop spinning on yours. What may feel selfish at first could actually breathe more life into yourself, your home, and the world you influence.


    I would never know the beauty and importance of rest and my family would have a significantly lesser wife and mom if I hadn’t let the good thing of homeschooling go. 



    Lesson 3: “Many people can be their teacher, but only you can be their mother.”

    My husband coined those wise words and I’m here to tell you, they have talked me down off the ledge a time or ten. For me, for this season, letting others be their teacher has enabled me to be a better and truer mother. 


    Lesson 4: Sometimes real life re-routes us in ways that feel like failure but are actually grace.




    I keep returning to that line I wrote a long time ago because it has been the significant theme of my life. Yes, it surely has. 

    Twenty months later, I thank God for the unraveling that prompted the wise counsel on a December Thursday. 


    I thank Him that I didn’t have time to stress and prepare before I sent my kids to school. 


    I thank Him that He worked it all out in a way that only He could have orchestrated because it confirms for all of us that this is His doing. We simply said yes.  


    I thank Him for his crazy math: Mess + Hardship = Blessing. In this case, the “Blessing” is that my kids are exactly where they need to be, that we are all where we need to be. But here’s the bonus: public school is where my kids want to be. Though they enjoyed homeschool and never asked to do anything else, they are at home in public school. At least for now.


    I can look back and see all of that as failure. Or I can look up and receive it as grace. I choose to do the latter.

    School has opened up a whole new world for all of us.




    It’s a place for learning, community, and difficult life lessons. 

    It’s a place for opportunity, success, and failure. 


    It’s a place for ministry, friendship, and growth. 


    It is not the place I would have chosen at first but it is the place I now embrace, a place of grace. 



    Lesson 5: Letting go is not failure. In fact, letting go may actually bring freedom.


    Many parents choose to go from one way of doing school to another way of doing school without all of the angst I’ve written about here. I don’t know why homeschooling had to be pried from my clenched fists before I could let it go. And I’m definitely not saying I should have let it go sooner. I’m glad for every day we experienced of living and learning together. 




    All I can say is that when the time came to let it go, I’m glad I did. 


    Letting go can take many forms:

    • Maybe your kids are in public school and one {or more} of them is simply not being served there in one way or another. Perhaps it is not a fruitful place for them; it may even be detrimental to their mind, body, or spirit. You want public school to work. You’re committed to it. Just like my vision of a classical private school and then homeschool, public school may be your perfect vision for your kids. But it’s not working. Do you need to let public schooling go?

    • Maybe your children are at a wonderful private school but you simply don’t have the means to keep paying tuition. Or the commute has become all-consuming. Or it’s no longer the great fit that it used to be. You don’t want to pursue homeschool or public school. Your kids’ current school is a beautiful part of your plan and you don’t want to surrender to something lesser. Do you need to let private schooling go?

    • Maybe you’re a bit like I was. You’ve crafted a beautiful image in your mind of what your homeschool life will look like and accomplish. But you’re exhausted beyond measure. Or your marriage needs attention. Or a family crisis is taking much of your energy and attention away from homeschooling. Maybe homeschool is simply not a great environment and dynamic for one {or more} of your kids. Perhaps you’re depressed. Or you need to go back to work. Do you need to let homeschooling go?


    Letting go, whatever form it takes, is not like taking a magic pill and waking up to a life of rainbows and butterflies. I can’t guarantee that letting go will make any or all of you healthier, happier, or more successful.  


    In fact, just two nights ago I collapsed into bed and prayed against the creeping anxiety and questions. We’re juggling more than we ever have and we’re new at this. We’re making difficult {and often unpopular} decisions. There are things I love about public school and things I loathe. And sometimes, when there’s more to loathe than to love on a given day, fear and doubt can win the battle. 


    By the way, this worked the same way when I homeschooled. One bad day or a string of hard days could cause me to question everything.

    Even though we’re no longer homeschooling, we’re just as much in the trenches of parenthood as we’ve ever been; our days simply look different. Not “easier” different or “harder” different. But a “different” that, for our family, has ushered in more balance, overall health, personal responsibility, and new opportunity.




    This series will not tell you what to do. I wouldn’t ever want that responsibility. But this series will share the lessons I’ve learned on my crazy journey. If you find yourself somewhere in here, I’m glad. I long to be a voice of consolation and encouragement.


    If you’re rather settled on this whole issue of school, breathe a sigh of relief and thanksgiving. But perhaps there are areas in your life where you’re striving for an ideal that you’re not meant to have instead of embracing the real that is right in front of you. 


    Friends, there can be peace and purpose in your imperfect life. Your own real life may be pointing to change and surrender. Are you open to this? It’s scary, I know, but that which can at first feel like failure may in fact give way to a greater freedom and opportunity than you could possibly imagine. 



    …………………………………


    This is the third post in a series: 



    Being Cool About School: 
    Finding Grace & Freedom for Ourselves & Others in Our Educational Choices

    {Whether We Teach Our Kids at Home, 
    in School, or on the Moon}


    You can read the earlier posts in the series here. 

      

    Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you’d like to receive the rest of the series in your e-mail’s inbox. You can do that in the right sidebar. And you may unsubscribe anytime you like. 



    • « Previous Page
    • Page 1
    • …
    • Page 23
    • Page 24
    • Page 25
    • Page 26
    • Page 27
    • …
    • Page 58
    • Next Page »

    Primary Sidebar

    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter

    You May Enjoy

    Recent Posts

    • When You’re in a Season of Overwhelm
    • Why Endings Don’t Always Get the Last Word
    • On Hope
    • On the Endurance of Hard-Won Love
    • Where to Go with Uncertainty about Faith Issues

    Categories

    Archives

    Marian Vischer

    Copyright © 2025 · Splendor Theme on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in

    Introduce yourself and your program
    Your information will never be shared.