I usually begin my days with a somewhat enthusiastic attitude toward the lessons I'll be trying to teach my children during our school day. I go over the schedule for each child, I pull all the materials each one will need to complete their lessons, I take a little "me time" to focus my thoughts in a positive direction and say a little prayer, I make sure everyone is fed and clean, and I take a deeeeeeep breath. Then, I call the children into our schoolroom and that is the point at which all good plans seem to slowly (or sometimes, not so slowly) begin to fall apart. That's not to say that we never stay on schedule or that we rarely accomplish all of that days scholastic tasks - that happens frequently enough for the children to have established an expected routine to their school day. Sometimes, we have a bad mood to cope with, especially when one of the children has neglected to eat breakfast (after repeated reminders from me.) Sometimes, it's a busy three year-old brother that has his own plans, frequently including a great deal of various noises, verbal and non-verbal. Other times, we have anxieties to address - trying to help my kids realize that they really do know the answers they're being asked to find and they don't need me standing over their shoulder verifying each correct answer as they go. Most of the time, it's a flat out refusal by one certain child to engage in anything remotely resembling something educational...especially reading and writing. We've been at this homeschool thing for a while now - we are beginning our 7th school year in a couple of weeks. And yet, I'm always amazed at the creative ways my kids have come up with to derail themselves on any given school day.
I frequently question my methods, my abilities, and my decision to take on this huge undertaking in the first place. I think I've felt probably every negative emotion a parent and teacher can feel. I've even gone so far as to price private schools. And yet, there are those rare moments when I'm given a gift from my children...catching them reading a book for fun, looking up interesting facts about science on the internet, one sibling helping another figure out the instructions for a game, writing down a shopping list for Grandma, typing up some favorite recipes to give to a friend...the list could go on and on. We have our share of "a-ha" moments and it's very exciting to see that light go on behind their eyes when a foggy concept crystallizes. Those are wonderful moments in the classroom. It's wonderful to be able to see measured progress. But it's at those times when I see them doing real-life things that require applied use of knowledge they've gained in our little homeschool classroom that remind me that all the struggle, for all of us, is completely and utterly worth it.
