It may be leftover defensiveness from our earlier days of explaining to negative critics (sometimes in our own families), or it may be that old river in Egypt, but let me tell it to you straight, sister,
Not everything is always great in anyone’s homeschool.
You may not always see it on Pinterest, or scroll by it on Facegram, but there are mamas who are struggling big time over this monumental decision to homeschool their little babies.
And since you’re here? Well, maybe that mama is you.
In the efforts of full disclosure, I wrote this many moons ago. Since then, my kids have unschooled, homeschooled, dual schooled (charter high homeschool program mixed with college), Waldorf schooled, and … um, I think that’s it.
My uncle ordered popovers from the restaurant’s bill of fare. And, when they were served, he regarded them with a penetrating stare. Then he spoke great words of wisdom as he sat there on that chair: “To eat these things,” said my uncle, “You must exercise great care. You may swallow down what’s solid, but you must spit out the air!” And as you partake of the world’s bill of fare, that’s darned good advice to follow. Do a lot of spitting out the hot air. And be careful what you swallow.
~Theodore Seuss Geisel (Dr. Seuss), from a commencement address.
One of the most popular reasons homeschooling parents choose to keep their children home – especially in this day and age – is to avoid the bullying and the peer pressure that inevitably comes with public schools. We don’t want our children to experience that kind of abuse, especially on a daily basis. Maybe some of us remember it ourselves and we shudder to think of our small sons and daughters being put through that type of pain and torment. Read more
When I was young – back in the olden days, by crikey – I longed for a pony. My longing would not be fulfilled by roly-poly bugs named Juan, or stray cats that refused to cuddle, or the occasional frog that was captured, named, snuggled, and played dead at all the wrong times.
No, what I needed was a pony. A mighty steed, a classy mount, a real life, by golly, horse. One that I could tie my saddlebags filled with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to, and gallop off to have amazing adventures. Read more
He’ll have recognized the ‘crazy eyes’ and the frustration and despondency and also notice that his children take about eight billion times longer to write a report than is logically necessary, seem to retain any and all knowledge of math facts for about as long as guacamole stays green, and have a strange knack for using their school supplies as forts or weapons or anything other than what they’re meant for.
My public-schooled, executive, non-religious brother already thinks I live in one anyway and he phones occasionally to make sure I am not wearing long dresses, marrying off my small daughters, allowing my husband extra wives, watching for comets, and drinking Kool-aid. (I stay mum.)
Of course there will have to be some rules in my commune. This isn’t a free for all! Breaking the rules will terminate our weird, crunchy, granola, hippy-dippy way of life, so try to adhere.Read more
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