My son Sean, eleven, just returned from his first day of public schooling. I usually take things in stride, so I am a little surprised at how emotional I have felt over this. I am both excited, because it means I have more time for the younger two, fewer lesson plans, and less fighting with my budding adolescent. I am sad, because I love schooling Sean, I love all the wonderful moments we share each day, I love the family life centered around, well, family.
He has not always been home schooled. My first choice for him so long ago was the local Montessori, which he happily attended for many years. He was in a mixed-age group of children with the same teacher for several years, and he excelled. It was a peaceful environment, and they learned to care for their classroom and school yard; to resolve their conflicts peacefully; they learned a great deal about nature and other cultures; and they spent a lot of time outside, in all kinds of weather. All educational attainments I value highly.
This familiar group of students, friends and teachers helped support Sean during a difficult time in his life. He experienced the loss of both of his grandparents, who lived on the same street, within 18 months. He welcomed a new baby sister into his life. And he experienced the divorce of his parents. The one constant in his life was his teacher and classmates.
This was almost six years ago, and he is still in touch with his teacher, who has married, had a baby, and moved to another state.
He also attended a public school in North Carolina, when his divorced parents could no longer afford the private school tuition. He would remark at how much time the teacher spent disciplining several boys in his third grade class, and he expressed shock at the language and behavior these boys displayed. He would get frustrated at the constant interruptions in his work as he had to move frequently from subject area to subject area throughout the day, never feeling like he had any control, never feeling like he could complete anything satisfactorily.
When the opportunity came to keep him home, it was a huge relief, and a blessing. What a healing time. That was almost three years ago. Now he is becoming an adolescent. Some days he seems so grown and mature in both his language, his understanding, and his independence. And other times I am reminded that he is still just a young boy. He sits on my lap, all long limbs, for a quick snuggle. He still requires a lot of guidance and love.
But he wants his independence. So we were pleased to discover that our county offers part-time enrollment for sixth through twelve grade home-school students. We had planned to enroll him for a German and a math class next year, while still continuing to follow the Waldorf curriculum for his age.
But so many struggles, so much conflict, so many raised voices and frustration. It was taking over the home. I felt I was constantly fighting him, about every little thing, all day, every day. The two-year old was doing what a two-year old does, she was copying our raised voices, our angry tones. My seven-year old was being neglected. My husband was frustrated. The ex-husband (Sean's dad), kept pushing for the full-time schooling. So we talked about it. And Sean seemed interested, curious. I think he saw it as a way out, a strange way to more independence. We live less than a mile from the middle school, he could walk, see his friends, be away from his mom and his little sisters for most of the day, every day.
Except school is confining. There are schedules, bells, and expectations. He would have to put time in and work hard, even at stuff he found boring, too easy, or just plain dumb. Second thoughts. "But it would only be for six months" he told himself. "Then I could go part-time, and home-school again."
So here we are, the first day of public school. English; United States history; music lab; keyboarding; and a study period. They watched an old movie in his history class. They watched part of the movie Polar Express in another. He doesn't know why.
I turn to his father, who supports home schooling overall, but had once been very skeptical. "You see, " I proclaim, "two hours of home schooling goes a lot farther than a whole day in public school." He agreed.
"Was their anything good about the day?" his father asks him as we slow our litany of questions.
"The chicken sandwich I had at lunch was pretty good," he replies.
He has not always been home schooled. My first choice for him so long ago was the local Montessori, which he happily attended for many years. He was in a mixed-age group of children with the same teacher for several years, and he excelled. It was a peaceful environment, and they learned to care for their classroom and school yard; to resolve their conflicts peacefully; they learned a great deal about nature and other cultures; and they spent a lot of time outside, in all kinds of weather. All educational attainments I value highly.
This familiar group of students, friends and teachers helped support Sean during a difficult time in his life. He experienced the loss of both of his grandparents, who lived on the same street, within 18 months. He welcomed a new baby sister into his life. And he experienced the divorce of his parents. The one constant in his life was his teacher and classmates.
This was almost six years ago, and he is still in touch with his teacher, who has married, had a baby, and moved to another state.
He also attended a public school in North Carolina, when his divorced parents could no longer afford the private school tuition. He would remark at how much time the teacher spent disciplining several boys in his third grade class, and he expressed shock at the language and behavior these boys displayed. He would get frustrated at the constant interruptions in his work as he had to move frequently from subject area to subject area throughout the day, never feeling like he had any control, never feeling like he could complete anything satisfactorily.
When the opportunity came to keep him home, it was a huge relief, and a blessing. What a healing time. That was almost three years ago. Now he is becoming an adolescent. Some days he seems so grown and mature in both his language, his understanding, and his independence. And other times I am reminded that he is still just a young boy. He sits on my lap, all long limbs, for a quick snuggle. He still requires a lot of guidance and love.
But he wants his independence. So we were pleased to discover that our county offers part-time enrollment for sixth through twelve grade home-school students. We had planned to enroll him for a German and a math class next year, while still continuing to follow the Waldorf curriculum for his age.
But so many struggles, so much conflict, so many raised voices and frustration. It was taking over the home. I felt I was constantly fighting him, about every little thing, all day, every day. The two-year old was doing what a two-year old does, she was copying our raised voices, our angry tones. My seven-year old was being neglected. My husband was frustrated. The ex-husband (Sean's dad), kept pushing for the full-time schooling. So we talked about it. And Sean seemed interested, curious. I think he saw it as a way out, a strange way to more independence. We live less than a mile from the middle school, he could walk, see his friends, be away from his mom and his little sisters for most of the day, every day.
Except school is confining. There are schedules, bells, and expectations. He would have to put time in and work hard, even at stuff he found boring, too easy, or just plain dumb. Second thoughts. "But it would only be for six months" he told himself. "Then I could go part-time, and home-school again."
So here we are, the first day of public school. English; United States history; music lab; keyboarding; and a study period. They watched an old movie in his history class. They watched part of the movie Polar Express in another. He doesn't know why.
I turn to his father, who supports home schooling overall, but had once been very skeptical. "You see, " I proclaim, "two hours of home schooling goes a lot farther than a whole day in public school." He agreed.
"Was their anything good about the day?" his father asks him as we slow our litany of questions.
"The chicken sandwich I had at lunch was pretty good," he replies.
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