Inadequate…
This is the word that resonates over and over in my mind when I sit down at the beginning of the week to write copywork in small books, think about how to best convey new math concepts, and try to mesh the timeline of ancient history with our Main Book. I’m not a history buff and still trying to figure out why the same events are assigned dates differing by hundreds of years (and who is right?). In college I majored in Biology and minored in Anthropology, thriving on growing bacterial cultures, staining them, viewing them in the microscope, writing ethnographies as I learned to try to view the world through the lense of people living in it, and dreaming of a life overseas. I wondered why, given the choice, anyone would choose to instead spend their days cutting out letters and student teaching. Now I’m wishing I had done a bit of that myself.
This will offend some of you. I am a reluctant homeschooler. My reluctance is based on my personal insecurities, and the current limitations in our life, not based on doubting homeschooling itself. I believe that sharing life and educating one’s children at home can be a wonderful thing and many of you do it so well. I admire those of you who sense a mandate to educate your children a certain way, and I wish I had that conviction. In this season of nomadic life (which we love!) homeschooling is really our only option and so we do it.
I was homeschooled. I hear some of you saying, “That explains a lot,” and maybe it does, and I’m grateful for every bit it explains, so there (haha). My mom did an incredible job in an era when there were very few homeschoolers and fewer resources. She spent hours at the Goodwill store and library searching for books. We went on field trips to mountains and figured out gas mileage along the way, then identified birds, real life learning. A dear friend of ours taught us the higher maths in exchange for us watching her baby boy. I attended outside tutorials for foreign language, art, science. I learned a lot and came away with a lifelong love of learning (a repeatedly stated goal of homeschoolers).
This time of year homeschool blogs are full of excitement about ‘back to school.’ Pictures of immaculate rooms overflowing with well organized books, inviting reading nooks lit with matching candles, neatly sharpened pencils, crisp stacks of paper ready for the filling, walls plastered with engaging maps and posters, each one mocking me. Is that someone’s house or an IKEA ad? Our homeschool room in this house is such a gift. We don’t have much empty wall space for art and charts, but we do have huge windows looking out on monkeys and hillsides. We have space for everything: two small tables for seatwork, one bookshelf of books, and a cupboard full of puzzles, games, art stuff, coloring books, and pencil boxes. But when we travel (which is about half the time), my homeschool room is an untidy black plastic trunk full of books, papers, pencil boxes, bits of yarn, scraps of fabric. I’m often just a wee bit afraid to stick my hand in there in case a creature has made a home in it. Inevitably I forget to bring something…hopefully not a whole subject.
I glory in my mess of it, knowing that He is made perfect in weakness, and I’m so weak in this area. It’s another chance for me to trust in a nitty gritty way, another way to put my faith into action instead of it swimming around in my stagnant heart. I hate the possibility of my kids getting to college age and being limited because of my ignorance or inadequacy. It is a heavy burden for my husband and me to be the only ones regularly investing in their lives…no Boy Scout Troop Leader, no soccer coach, no Sunday School Teacher, no aunt or uncle nearby.
Do I really believe He knows the end from the beginning? Do I really trust Him to orchestrate my children’s educational opportunities and life experiences in accordance with the good works He has planned in advance for them to do? What about team sports, music lessons, public speaking, and science camps? What about a teacher who can communicate more knowledgeably or passionately? He Who clothes the lilies of the field, feeds sparrows, and gives us our daily bread in a miraculous way can also feed these hungry minds. He is even gracious to give occasional glimpses of this being a good thing for them, instead of a reason we ought to be putting more money in their Therapy Accounts (you know they’re gonna need it). And He is constantly inviting me to trust Him more.
