I don’t have a clue about what I’m doing. No, really, I don’t. I know people who have their whole homeschooling careers mapped out from before their child is born. They know the method they’ll use. They have a plan for whatever learning styles their children turn out to have. They have their curriculum ordered, their school year lesson plans written or if they’ve chosen unschooling, they are completely confident and prepared for the life of learning they’ll unravel. Me? I have no idea.

A year and a half into this thing I don’t know what I’m doing. Nope, truly. How many days a year? Nope. Start in September? Start in January? Nope. Use a full curriculum set? Unschool? Eclectic? No idea. I don’t even know if my child is really in kindergarten or 1st grade. I told you I didn’t know what I was doing. Before they were preschool age I thought maybe I’d homeschool. I knew I had the ability. I wasn’t worried about socializing. I knew there were lots of great curricula out there. And then my oldest made lots of friends and there was such a to-do about registering for school and I caved. Against my husband’s better judgement.

Shoulda been a sign.

And then my husband took a job in a different city 3 weeks before school was to start. And we didn’t find a place to live (leaving him commuting more than an hour each way) until 3 days before the first day of school.

Shoulda been a sign.

I was in the first trimester of my 4th pregnancy. Every morning I got 3 small children dressed and fed and drove 20 minutes (to the best school in the district – refused to put my 4 year old on a bus) and dropped my crying, hysterical child off with strangers who could care less. That’s how kindergarten goes.

“They have to grow up,” they said.
“They’ll eventually stop crying,” they said.
“He’ll love it,” they said.
“It’ll be great for your other children,” they said.
“You deserve it,” they said.
“He’ll listen better to someone other than his mother,” they said.
“You’re coddling him,” they said.
“You’ll ruin him,” they said.
“He needs to toughen up,” they said.

He cried and I cried. Then, my other 2 children stood by the door all day asking about their brother and when I picked him up from school he was hungry; and tired; and overwhelmed; and in trouble – Everyday. So, I scheduled appointments with the teacher and I was informed that she had “only a minute to talk” because her son had a football game to get to so I couldn’t glean from her if it was typical kindergarten adjustments or if it was him. Next, I signed up to volunteer and was told that I should allow the professionals to do their jobs because they’ve been trained and know best. I attended the PTA meetings and was treated like a first-timer that needed to wise up; get seasoned.

I brought my son home each afternoon with new papers declaring things like “name moved from good guys to bad guys” with no specifics of what to actually address. I went to meet him for lunch on his 5th birthday and realized they had 20 minutes to retrieve their tray, eat, and dump their trash. So, when he needed to potty, he didn’t get to finish eating. When we told him to put his chicken nuggets in his pocket so that he could eat them on the playground immediately following lunch he said, “Oh, no, I would get in a bunch of trouble for sneaking food.” He got in trouble at rest time for holding the 2 inch square of cloth that I had sprayed with my perfume to comfort him. In the mornings he begged me to not drop him off before the morning bell. They were to go out to the playground with all 6 of the other grades to play with 2 on-duty teachers. When we got home we did homework, reviewed his disciplinary action for the day, fed him, bathed him, and sent him to bed. We awoke the next morning to do it all again.

Shoulda been a sign.

At 8 weeks we finally prayed about what we were doing. And we brought him home – with no plan; no curriculum; no ammunition in our arsenal. We were armed only with our love for our son. Our feeling of what we were doing was finally right and we had the confidence that we know what’s best. I still don’t have a plan. I have hand-me-down curriculum. I have the internet. I have the Discovery Channel. I have ideas about someday ordering cool sets. I don’t know. Most days I question if I’m doing enough. Other days I question if I’m pushing too hard. I don’t know much about what I’m doing. But what I do know, we’ll go where the wind blows. I know that I love my children. I know that I don’t need a special degree to do that. I know that they’ve come so far in such a short time and I know that they astonish me constantly with what they’ve learned. I know that I love being with them. I know that they love being with each other. I don’t know how to do what I’m doing, but I know that what I’m doing is right. And I know that at the end of the day I love what I’m doing.