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?”
Post 1: “So are you still glad you switched your kids from homeschool to public school?”
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:
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.
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:
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.
For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
[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…
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.