My oldest daughter starts school this year. And I am kind of losing my stuff.
As former homeschooled children, my husband and I have known since before we ever saw two pink lines that we would be educating our children at home.
Done. Decision made. Hard part over, right?
This is when all the veteran mamas who have navigated this path before me roll in laughter and shout, “In your dreams, rookie!”
Childhood education used to be a pretty standard affair because, well, when there is only one single-room schoolhouse within 20 miles, you don’t really get many options, do you?
But when you live in the day and age of unprecedented choices and standards, education becomes a bit more challenging. Confusing. Stressful.
Breakdown-inducing.
I naively thought I was ahead of the game simply because I had chosen my children’s educational route before they even left my womb. Imagine my shock and surprise when I realized things have changed a bit in the 20 or so years since I started doing worksheets at the kitchen table.
There are methods now, you guys. Pedagogies. (Some of you don’t even know what that word means. And now you’re freaking out because, as if single-handedly bearing responsibility for determining your child’s academic blueprint was not stressful enough, apparently now you’re also supposed to choose a pedagogy, But what the heck is a pedagogy?!) I know. I’ve been there.
I have spent the entire summer flipping through educational magazines, researching curricula, interviewing mamas I wish to emulate, and working myself into a frenzy over the sheer number of options available to parents today.
Public or homeschool? Private or charter? Montessori or traditional? Bus or carpool? Bag lunch or cafeteria? Yes, many of these decisions are minor in the grand scheme of things, but when new studies are constantly emerging touting the importance of early childhood education, suddenly the choice between the Hello Kitty or the Lisa Frank lunchbox doesn’t seem quite so trivial. (For the record, Lisa Frank is always the right choice. Always.)
I grew so frazzled and overwhelmed as I tried to piece together a successful plan for our first year of homeschooling that my mother finally sat me down and said, “It’s kindergarten, Brittany. You can’t screw her up this early.”
Hmmmm.
So I started to wonder: Why do we subject ourselves to such unrelenting pressure when it comes to our kids’ schooling? I’m pretty sure my mom had no clue what she was doing that first year she started homeschooling my brother and me. And let’s be honest, most of the other homeschooling families we knew at that time churned their own butter and wore matching clothing. (I’m not even lying.) Yet I don’t think she ever once considered that she was potentially ruining her children’s lives.
Why do I feel that way at least once a week?
Could it be that we’ve allowed our Pinterest-perfect expectations of over-achievement and grandiose to color every aspect of our parenting?
Could it be that we’ve shifted our gaze off of what’s truly best for our children? Have we started focusing instead on outcomes that reflect positively on us as parents (prestigious academies, standardized test scores, advanced extracurriculars, etc.)?
And maybe could it be that we’ve forgotten how capable we are of teaching our children the things that matter?
We’ve been teachers from the second our little ones drew their first tiny breaths, Mama. From the moment they were swaddled up and placed in our arms, we’ve been teaching and leading and shepherding.
We’ve taught them to eat, to sleep (sometimes, anyway), to use a potty, to say “please” and “thank you” and “I love you” and “I’m sorry.”
We’ve taught them to share, to take risks, to be brave, to get up and try again.
We’ve taught them to dance, to laugh, to sing, to go talk to that kid playing by himself, to be a friend to the friendless.
And we’ve taught them to fight every day to make this world a better place.
We’ve taught them all that, Mama.
So this year, let’s give ourselves a break. Let’s stop stressing that our little one doesn’t yet seem to have a hearty appetite for learning, or that her fine motor skills are slightly delayed, or that he can’t sit still for more than five minutes, or that maybe we’re ruining their chances of ever getting into a decent college.
Because no matter where our kids spend this school year – the kitchen table, the private academy we can barely afford, or the public school right down the street – we are the ones teaching them about life.
And some of the greatest lessons they’ll ever learn can’t be measured by a test score.
Do any veteran school mamas have advice or encouragement for us newbies? Please share your wisdom!
