Joining the Ranks
At 14 years of age I was introduced to the world of homeschooling by a boyfriend (if someone not allowed to date can, indeed, have a boyfriend). He was 19 years old, from Spanish Fork, Utah, in college, and had a slew of younger siblings, all being home taught.
He tried, at every opportunity, to convince me of the benefits of homeschooling and home birth. He also told me that I would be his “first wife" and explained the reason his parents were home birth advocates thusly, "When you have a baby in the hospital, the hospital personnel tatoo the baby's social security number across the baby's forehead with invisible ink…and that's the mark of the beast."
I ran, fast and far. I swore that I would never have anything to do with the nutty people in the alternative schooling movement.
My oldest daughter entered a public kindergarten in August 1992. Even though I got to keep Jessica home an extra day because of Hurricane Andrew, I cried my way home from the bus stop. “Of course I’m emotional,” I reasoned, “she’s my first my baby. I’ll grow out of this.” Eventually I adjusted to the schedule and the restrictions, but never quite got used to having her sweet spirit missing for seven plus hours a day.
“How can you ensure your child’s success in school? Become involved!” everyone told me. My husband and I had always taught our children the things they asked about. We had always taken a part in educating them. Now I also became the editor and typesetter for the PTA and school newsletter; I was elected to the School Advisory Council; I was a room mother. The principal, office personnel, teachers, and even the custodian, all knew my name and my face. I was determined to make a difference!
During the summer after first grade Jessica and her sisters, Belinda and Alana, and I began making weekly treks to the public library. While my children were looking for books one morning in early August, I browsed through the parenting section located in the juvenile library. On the top shelf was a book about homeschooling. I laughed a little, remembering that I could have been the preferred wife in a homeschooling family. Nevertheless, I picked up the book and flipped through it. Thinking that it may give me some ideas for fun summer activities, I decided to check it out. I carefully hid it among all the children’s books, ensuring that no one would confuse me with those wacky homeschoolers.
“Homeschooling, huh, that’s pretty neat, I hear,” commented the librarian loudly, as I checked out my books. I burst into an exposé about my life and my purpose for checking out this bizarre book. I made excuses about the selection to the people behind me in line. They all looked at me incredulously as I babbled my way out the door.
The next afternoon, while reading, my daughter walked in on me. “Whatcha reading?” she asked. I turned the cover of the book just enough for her to read the title. “Homeschooling? What’s that?”
“Well, you know how you go to Sandpiper Shores?” I replied, “Some kids go to school in their own houses instead.”
“Cool!” she exclaimed. “I guess if you went to homeschool you’d get more than 22 minutes for lunch!”
“Mmmhmm, I suppose so.”
“I guess if you went to homeschool you’d go to the library more than once every two weeks.”
“Well, yes, but...
“I guess if you went to homeschool you’d use the computer more than ten minutes a month.”
And on it went, through that day and into the next. All-the-Reasons-You-Never-Wanted-to-Know-Why-Homeschool-Would-Be-Great. I countered with All-the-Reasons-Why-Public-School-Is-Great-and-Why-Homeschoolers-are-Crazy, but it was a hopeless cause. She won match point with, “I guess if you went to homeschool it wouldn’t be so boring.”
Now my sweet girl was the teacher’s pet. She was always attentive and cooperative, a Super Sanderling every term, Student of the Week, and Star of the Week, and even won a free field trip as the first grade Math Superstar. But she was bored. It had always been a problem but, try as we might, we were unable to resolve it and our only known last resort was to bus her across town to the “gifted” magnet school—the school that, miraculously, most of the rich kids in Boca Raton qualified to attend. She knew that she had me!
With less than four weeks until the school year began, we scrambled around frantically, reading, writing, calling, talking (oh, yes, and buying). Amazingly, everything fell into place. Now here we are, abundantly wiser, happily homeschooling with all the rest of you nutty, wacky, crazy people. And I keep saying to my dear husband, “Why didn’t we do this all along?”