scribblechic

The other day I had a profound moment of uncertain, certainty. I carried my thoughts carefully tucked away in my mind, weighing if I should give them a voice. At day’s end, the house quiet, I told my husband I needed him to listen without questioning my sanity or nudging me into action.

With a deep breath and full heart, I said: I want to teach our son from home. Maybe. My husband, whatever his initial thoughts, honored my wish and kept silent. I unraveled my concerns and hopes measuring them each against possibility. The core truth: I’m not sure a traditional school setting is right for our son.

Earlier the same evening I had sifted through old pictures of both children with my daughter, noting the happy dimpled little boy of days gone by. In each picture my son was peaceful, whole. There were no worried lines on his face, no sadness in his eyes. Most school days I cannot see his smile and his spirit feels buried beneath sadness and anger. An eternally curious child he used to beg to attend school, eager to learn and make friends. Now he hides behind individual interests, his footsteps heavy with resistance as he finds his way to school. I paused in sorrow wondering, are we suffocating the joy from learning?

I still do not have an answer. I have new questions. Would I be facilitating my son’s escape from a traditional school setting that might better prepare him for life? Am I capable of providing a balanced, structured education that would prepare my son for a limitless future? Do I then keep my daughter home? Does she have the same option as her brother? Where do I begin and how do I know if it is the right fit for our family? What if I become ill, we move, the Earth slips off its axis; what then? What next?

This is what I know. Both of my children are fortunate to have teachers who are passionate about teaching and compassionate when faced with challenges, who see my children as individuals and communicate openly with me. Of course, we also live in a competitive environment where our children are measured endlessly against themselves, classmates, and nameless others. Teachers are forced to teach in preparation for tests and not all subjects are weighted equally. Our school days are short and our school years fragmented with oddly spaced vacations. There are gaps in my children’s education that I as their mother am  obligated to fill; pockets of potential, natural resources overlooked.

I wonder if there is a way to draft a lifelong education plan that truly inspires independent learners. Is there a way to nurture learning and educate from home in celebration of the joy of learning while preparing our children to become contributing members of society? Do I continue to work with the school, outlining my son’s unique needs and partnering with his teachers to navigate this experience together? If my daughter is happy, is contentment acceptable or do I insist she be inspired?

I cast my worries to the wind and wonder what answers I might find.

Tagged: Children, Education, Home, Learning, School