The good stuff

Responding to Whitman's Song of Myself.

I love teaching kids to read. Watching the cracking of the elusive code of written language is nothing short of awe-inspiring, whether the process takes two weeks or two years. I delight in seeing those lights come on in a child's mind and truthfully, I can't imagine handing that blessing over to anyone else, no matter how qualified the teacher's union insists they are.

For years, I thought that this would be the highlight of homeschooling-- that nothing would touch the excitement of those first baby steps into the academic world.

I was wrong.

For all of its pressures, for all of its outside expectations, homeschooling high school is where it's at.

Like most of us, I felt a lump in my throat as I contemplated tackling upper level subjects with my kids. I really wasn't sure how to reconcile the high school education I had had with the one I dreamed of for my children. I was daunted by the prospect of "missing something." Could I really teach physics after all? And the idea of somehow inadvertently costing my child his or her future career through my own mistake or miscalculation, well ... let's just say I lost sleep over the idea more than once.

What we've found, however, has been that those fears have faded into the background and been replaced by a rhythm of learning, growing, and relating that I never expected. Halfway through her tenth grade year, Jo has matured into a young lady who largely owns her education, who sets goals, and who seeks out the knowledge she needs when she needs it. No, not everything catches her fancy (the required state history component of her credits is boring her to tears), but she shrugs it off and counts it as a necessary evil as she budgets her time for the things that do matter to her: music theory, reading another book from the selections relating to our current history study, French, poring over the prerequisite materials for the doula class she'll be taking this fall. 

Her enthusiasm for learning is contagious, and the depth at which material is studied at this level is, to be honest, so much more fulfilling for the homeschool mom presenting it or even just walking alongside. For example, this year Jo has been tackling a course in American Literature that I wrote for her. Finally! I am introducing my daughter to Scout and Boo, to Huck, to Hester. We are laughing about James Fenimore Cooper's schoolboy antics, mourning Poe's sad family connections, and wishing Hemingway had never picked up the shotgun. Together. 

This, I've decided, is the second phase of amazing in homeschooling. Just as poignant as reading lessons, just as satisfying as sweet Bible stories with felt camels and stones, just as beautiful as the tearful goodbye we bade Charlotte as Wilbur left the fair. I am forever grateful that we have this time together to dig deep and talk. I didn't see the blessing of this season coming, but here it is, and I, for one, am happy to embrace it.

Thoughts on homeschooling high school

We've reach a milestone in our homeschooling journey: Jo is entering the no-man's land of high school.


I can feel the magnitude of all of this just fine without the constant chorus of people around me. After all, I'm the one who wakes up every morning to the truth that my little girl is just an inch shy of my own 5'9", borrows my shoes, and prays for her future husband every night. Yes, I'm well aware she's growing up. I didn't need you to tell me that. Thanks anyway, though.


But no, people won't stop pointing out the obvious. Far from being overwhelmed at the fact that the years of wearing the knees out in her tights by playing horses for hours on end have come to a close, though, most people are bubbling over with questions and concerns (and concerns masquerading as questions) about how on earth we plan to homeschool through high school.


Clearly, we're not the first to go this way. I know of plenty of people who have lived to tell the tale and frankly, many of their children were high on the list of reasons why we started this whole homeschooling business to start with. They are smart, funny, godly, gracious, responsible, kind people, the lot of them. Fine young adults that I'd be proud to hire, to be served by, to have pleading my case in court, to be encouraged by at church. 

No, we're not pioneers. But we are among the few hearty souls who plan on finishing the race with a homeschool diploma as the reward.


"What are you going to do about chemistry?" 
"How about upper level math?"
"Won't she miss out on prom?"
"Are you going to hire someone to write her transcript?'
"What if she wants to go to public school?"
"Are you sure you know what colleges are looking for?"
"Doesn't that take a lot of time?"


You know the questions. You've heard them before, no matter where you are on your homeschooling journey. Someone has asked you these things with a wrinkle touching their brow, leaning in just slightly. And you've answered the questions to the best of your ability and then moved on, because really ... high school was so far away. Seriously, people, I'm talking about phonics here. And you want me to tell you my plans for physics?!?


Suddenly, though, I am staring down physics--and phonics, with this child at least, hasn't been in the picture in a nearly a decade. We're starting high school, for goodness sake. Where has the time gone?


If I listen too closely to the voices around me, I realize that I'd be mired in more doubt, worry, and anxiety than one homeschooler can stand. There are frighteningly few outsiders lining up to encourage me in my efforts--even fewer than there were when we started this undertaking. Because while it's now fairly common and acceptable to tackle the skills of early elementary and even slightly beyond at home, it's still not terribly mainstream to finish your entire education under the instruction of your parents.


And I know this. I expected the naysayers question our choices anew. I was prepared for being called to defend our choices. These people weren't really in support of homeschooling to start with, after all. They just couldn't find a reason to say it was bad, so they kept their mouths shut.  I get this.


What I wasn't prepared for, though, was the lack of support I'd feel from fellow homeschoolers. 


As we round the corner into high school, I've been shocked at the pressure I've felt--some subtle, some overt--to completely throw over our way of thinking about homeschooling and do it the right way.


You know ... the way that gets your kid into college.
 
There are checklists to follow. Courses that must be taught. Textbooks that look good on transcripts. Reading lists that Admissions Officers drool over. Course titles that dazzle. Hours to be counted. Stellar grades to be maintained. A sequence to follow. Extensive test prep. Volunteer opportunities to round everything out. And a job, of course, that screams, "responsible and ambitious!"


I'm not talking about covering state requirements here, guys. Those minimum standards are what I agree to each year when I send in my Intent to Homeschool Form, and I bow to that authority. Besides being a rather paltry sampling of what you really ought to teach anyhow (in my opinion), I do think that a minimum threshold has to be maintained on some level. If you don't have the time to hit on some math for three out of four years, well ... you probably need to reevaluate. 

No ... I'm talking about the bar set by colleges. 

 The pace of a homeschool high school program, I'm told, is to be set by the Institution that my daughter wants to attend. The next four years should be governed by what the Institution says it's looking for in a student. The Instituion knows what she needs to succeed. The Institution knows what she needs to learn. The Institution knows how she needs to learn it, and when.

Folks, does any of this sound familiar? It strikes me as being pretty close to the initial line we were all fed about government schooling in the first place. The one we rejected when we put our feet to the path of homeschooling.


I've been walking around in a daze for the last month, simply overwhelmed by what appears to be a near-unanimous agreement that homeschooling high school has to be different. That what has been working for our family--for my child--since we began has to change. Read-alouds must be replaced by textbook courses. Interest-led activities must be ditched for those that build her transcript. There's no room for learning chemistry in 9th grade, when my child has suddenly begun to ask for it, because chemistry must be taught in 10th grade, everyone knows, so that you can complete the science cycle as prescribed by ... well, the Institution.


An Institution that doesn't know my child, by the way, and has no interest in helping her spend these years listening to God's call on her life.

I am not against requiring more of a high school student. We've been gradually working toward this since Jo was in late elementary school. Every year, the water in the pot has gotten a little warmer, edging her towards a touch more independence here, a little bit of a challenge there. High school should be harder. The stakes should be a little higher. I agree with this! And I'm not against record keeping. I've been in favor of scrupulous homeschool records ever since I had the misfortune of finding myself being audited by our local school district a few years back. So count me among those who will be carefully taking notes on what is covered when.

Jo in kindergarten

What I am not in favor of is suddenly turning my back on what works--on what God has led us to--so that I can fulfill someone else's idea of what a high school education is.


I stopped dancing to that tune a long time ago when I realized that I had no interest in copying the government school structure at home. Institutional schooling is designed to create a specific product. As a Christian, homeschooling parent, I don't want that product. I didn't want that product back when I considered my sweet 4 year-old sitting in a chair most of the day and learning to read through a forced, manufactured process that didn't take her learning style and needs into account. I don't want it now as I imagine my articulate 9th grader snapping from topic to topic in 50 minute increments as commanded by a bell and a set of external requirements.

Jo in 9th grade

I see no joy in the model that demands that high school at home be dictated by an impersonal to-do list set by a school that may or may not be interested in being tasked with the privilege of educating my child. Most of all, I see no Jesus in it. That, I think is the biggest failing of all. Consider this: if you have spent the past 9(ish) years gently guiding your child through a series of learning experiences designed to help him or her to recognize and eventually respond to their specific role in God's Kingdom (Ephesians 2:10), how can you suddenly cast it aside and allow an outside Institution to captain the boat? 


God set me on this course. I plan on remaining as faithful to His calling as He has been to me throughout the joys and trials of educating my children. Maybe He will lead me to adopt a plan nearly indistinguishable from the one some college of choice recommends. Maybe He will lead me somewhere crazy, like signing Jo up for a horticulture class that eats up all her time and becomes her new path in life--even though what she was really supposed to be learning was algebra. I'm o.k. with either, because one thing that homeschooling has taught me is that I can trust Him wherever He leads. It may not look "normal" ... but it always brings me closer to Him and His will.


If you're a homeschooling parent entering this new phase along with me, I encourage you to do as I exhorted my dear cousin just this morning: Finish well. Keep the faith. Persevere. We are not running with men (Jeremiah 12:5). We run with horses. We aren't competing for high grades, scholarships, or college acceptance letters. Our prize is far, far more precious than anything the principalities have to offer us. Remember this ... and be encouraged!

Can I get your opinion on this?

I saw Voddie Baucham speak at a recent conference and was challenged by his take-no-prisoners approach. I tend to retreat from encouraging others--even those who I know in my heart of hearts would make great homeschoolers--to abandon public schooling. Instead, I find myself reigning in the urge to answer the question "Why do you homeschool?" with "Why DON'T you homeschool?"

I'd love to hear what readers have to say about this clip.

More about college

A hearty thanks to everyone who took the time to outline their philosophies on higher education. My own outlook on the topic has been somewhat refined, I have to say. For me, college is not a have to, but rather, a should. Whatever form it takes, I truly believe that a few more years spent exploring the concept of adulthood is not time wasted but rather, invested.

I probably come to this opinion based mostly on my own personal experiences. I am the first on my father's side of the family to go to college (although my father did attain technical certifications in adulthood). I grew up in a blue collar family that was just a half generation removed from the poverty of the Appalachian foothills; I say "half generation" because my father used an outhouse until he moved to Detroit at age 15. His own father--my beloved Papaw--worked on an assembly line punching out auto parts for 25 years in an era when job loyalty was rewarded by a system of perpetual support (pension and stock dividends) that no longer exists. He raised his family on these excellent benefits, then watched in despair as his own sons joined the industry just a few years too late to harvest the crop of "25 and out" jobs that factories and service industries used to be able to provide for their workers.

The willingness to simply put in your time was no longer enough for a man to truly provide for his family, my grandfather decided. An illiterate farmer who was denied the opportunity of an education in favor of providing labor to support his mother, siblings and ne'er do well father, my grandfather was no fool. He saw that the engineers and the designers and the folks who wore ties weren't worrying over the braces on their kids teeth or when they might save up enough to buy a home big enough to house their growing families. They also weren't the guys breathing in coal dust in the mines, losing fingers in machines or being bent under the weight of stoop labor in fields.

"You need one of them college papers," he used to tell me. "You go on and get you one, and won't nobody ever look down on you."

And he was mostly right. I got one of those papers; it's in my attic, filed in the big plastic bin of things I never unpacked when we moved in six years ago. I won't say that I've been immune to criticism or economic downturn. But something else happened in those four years that I spent a the large, state-run university I chose. My perspective on the world got wider.

I was a marginal Christian went I went to school (good enough to teach Sunday School, apparently!). I was also a spoiled brat. A big fish in a small pond. And more than a little cocky.

I probably could have come out of college exactly as I went in, but I didn't. God used that time to turn me around, to give me direction, to introduce me to the love of my life, to expand my horizons beyond California on the west and New York on the east ... and to begin in me the process of true discernment.

I had to make choices. And they had consequences. Some were good (work three jobs+no sleep=tuition & rent paid!). Some were bad (drive for six hours to D.C. + watch show in night club=miss chem lab in the morning). I had roommates who were not related to me and didn't give a crud what my motivations were. I had teachers who invested in me, and those that didn't. I had bills to pay, jobs to finish and a life to launch.

And I had four years to sort it all out.

I won't say that I don't regret a single moment of my college education. But I will say that I see God's hand in it so clearly that there's no way I could ever want to take it back. I went in a child. I came out ready to be a Child of God.

I don't for a second believe that those who eschew college in favor of entering the job force or establishing a business are destined to failure. And nowadays, not going to college doesn't necessarily mean a factory job, manual labor or even being employed by someone else at all. Heck, my best friend didn't go to college. Her husband also decided to forgo higher education. Aside from the fact that I don't envy the burden of maintaining one's own health insurance, the difficulty of running both a business and a family and not getting any paid vacation, I think that the big picture looks pretty good. It works for them. They're happy. Enough said.

But for me, personally, I think I'll keep encouraging my kids in the direction of college. Our preference is that they attend a Christian school and live somewhat nearby. If they choose not to go, then hey, that's o.k. It's not as if Mr. Blandings and I plan on footing the bill (we both paid our own way, and feel that it actually enriches, rather than detracts from the experience). We'll guide, we'll recommend, we'll pray and we'll support. That's our job. We're parents.

The job doesn't stop when they enter kindergarten, high school, college, the mission field, the job market, or marriage. That's the joy, isn't it?

Let's talk college!

I am LOVING the college discussion; I had no idea that the opinions on if/when/where/why to pursue higher learning were so passionate! Unfortunately, the bulk of the drama is taking place in my inbox. And, guys, that's just no fun. Can we take the discussion public? If you've written me an email on the topic, expect a request for full disclosure in your inbox today. And if you've refrained from airing your views, do you mind taking the time to post them? I think we might all have something we can learn from this.

Some of the things I'm hearing, just to get you thinking:

1. College isn't something Christians should encourage their children to look into; faith is often damaged or snuffed out entirely there.

2. Homeschooling a child and then putting them in a classroom environment is counterproductive.

3. Not sending your child to college is akin to shackling his potential for a lifetime.

4. College isn't the best thing in the world, but it's the way it is, so ... pick the best one you can and guide your kids through it.