I don’t ever remember a time in school when I had a friend. I don’t ever remember a time in school when I felt comfortable. I didn’t discover the joy of learning until college in my mid-twenties. I graduated from college in 2007 with two Associates Degrees and a BA in Philosophy. That means I am highly qualified to think deep thoughts and pick apart the carefully crafted arguments of others. The irony that he sent me to college to learn how to argue was not lost on my husband. He became adept at the “Whatever”/storm out of the room combo because verbally and intellectually he was no match for me. This ended abruptly when I began discussing my deep desire to homeschool our children. My oldest was in first grade and struggling with a learning disability that was severe enough to cause failing grades in spelling, math, and reading but NOT severe enough for her to qualify for extra help. We were spending tearful hours every night trying to complete her homework. Words that she could spell ten minutes before would, upon review, be a mystery. I had a newborn baby who wouldn’t sleep more than 2 hours at a time, day or night, and I was exhausted. I wanted her home! I wanted time with my precious big girl that was happy and carefree. I wanted to help her learn to read, and to love reading as much as I do. I love to teach, and really believed that God had given me these children with the responsibility to teach them everything I possibly could. It was MY job to teach them. It was not the job of strangers, no matter how well meaning they were.
Most importantly, the thought that my child could be bullied sent me into panic attacks the likes of which I had never felt before. I absolutely could not handle it. She would come home from school and tell me about a problem she was having with a little friend and I would have NO idea what to do. None. Not a clue. Zero. I had few social skills of my own, how in the heck was I going to train her in the art of getting along with a bunch of smart ass, spoiled, little first graders? My husband would tell me it was good for her, would toughen her up. My heart would tell me she was still a baby, there was plenty of time to fight the world’s problems when she had the knowledge, skills, and strength to do so. So, I announced to him that I wanted to bring her home at the end of second grade. I showed him statistics, outlined my planned curriculum, introduced him to other homeschooling families, and the answer was no. Homeschooling, in his uneducated and practically illiterate opinion, was for “dorks and social retards”. That is a direct quote. Well, sign me up then because I am both of things. I graduated from college with honors. If I had social skills, I would have friends, right? So homeschooling was for me, but not for him.
After a few months of arguing, pleading, begging, my daughter began spending every math class in the nurse’s office due to psychosomatic stomach pains and I told my husband I was doing it, and didn’t care what he said. He refused to learn about homeschooling pros and cons, and so the choice wasn’t up to him anymore. I pulled her out of school three weeks before the end of second grade and headed from Arizona to Illinois with the kids for the summer. That summer is a blog post ALL its own. Let’s jump ahead. Christmas 2011. My marriage is over. One of the huge reasons for that is because he never supported me in homeschooling, and never became part of this huge part of his family’s life. He never met our friends, never asked about school work, complained about being embarrassed to tell people at work that we homeschooled, and just generally undermined me at every opportunity. So, I was done with this jerk who wouldn’t help me teach our kids. I won the fight, but lost the war. My middle child has glimmers of the same learning disability that my oldest does, and she refused to learn from me. So at six and a half she still couldn’t identify the alphabet letter names or sounds. The family was in chaos, I was going to be a single parent, I needed help. For the past four months the girls have been going to the local public school. Thank the good Lord, it is a wonderful school. My six year old is reading. My ten year old is doing much better work for her new teacher than she would ever do for me. I have time during the day to figure out what I am going to do with my life. For us, for now, this is the right decision.
I loved every single minute of my time teaching my kids. I would homeschool again in a minute if I could. But for now, I am so thankful that God put us in a place where I can let them go every morning and feel no guilt. I can take my son for his appointments and evaluations, and not worry that the girls are sitting there in the waiting room with us, accomplishing nothing. I can play with him and give him his sensory diet needs without anyone else losing lesson time. The picture below was my mantra for a very long time. I don’t feel that way any longer. Maybe it’s because I found a new village. I can accept help from this village, and I do accept it with a heart full of gratitude, joy, and peace.
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