Am I a homeschool burnout?

Now that we’ve officially wrapped up this year’s schooling, complete with evaluation, portfolio, and the turning in of paperwork, I can admit something as I look toward our final year of homeschooling: I’m more than done.

Am I tired of homeschooling? Maybe. This year has been one of the “struggle” years, as we dealt with our daughter’s depression and anxiety, lack of motivation due to the aforementioned issues, and the scramble to catch up and finish well despite it all. There have been other struggle years, and I’m pretty sure that’s not unique to our household.

Am I sorry we chose this route? No way. When I look back at the worst times of our homeschool years, I know without a doubt that they would have been much, much worse if we’d had the kids in traditional government school.

Homeschooling three children to graduation (the youngest will graduate in 2018) has been one of the most rewarding choices my husband and I ever made. It’s also not been the easiest of choices and is not for the lazy, but I would never say I regret it. Our household has been richer for it, as far as the relationships we have with each other. Our “kids” (seventeen, twenty-one, and twenty-three) have diverse tastes, ever-expanding interests, and great friends. Best of all, they know who they are because they’ve not been forced to change themselves based on what their school peers have deemed popular or not.

If I’m tired of anything, it’s the paperwork. Even though Pennsylvania finally changed part of their homeschool law so I only have to turn in my evaluator’s okay at the end of the school year, it’s still the state with the second-most stringent set of homeschool laws in the US. I still have to put together a portfolio for the evaluator to look through so we can prove we’ve done the work required by law. And I still have to write up yearly objectives that I may or may not follow, depending on how the school year progresses—even though there’s no way for the school district to check up on me to see if I followed those objectives, or to make me list where I may have deviated from the plan.

It’s needless paperwork for every homeschooler, and it bugs me. I realized as I worked on next year’s objectives for our daughter that these would be the last set of objectives I would have to write, and I almost poured myself a glass of wine to celebrate.

The real celebration, though, will be next year at this time, when I reflect on a total of twenty years of homeschool life.

Victory, satisfaction, and a wee bit of relief.

 

 

Thoughts on the homeschool gig

I was reading a blog post today (Brenda Kaye Rufener’s Homeschool Diaries) that listed some of the dumber things people say to homeschoolers. Many of the questions & comments she mentioned are things I’ve experienced over the years. Some of them make me laugh, some leave me dumbstruck, and some of them make me want to bring out the Fist of Death, much like Alice in the Dilbert comics strip. 

Most times, I know those who comment are simply ignorant of what we do, and they might even be speaking from genuine concern, so I try to be polite. After sixteen years of homeschooling (not the same child, thank goodness!), though we don’t get as many questioning looks about being “out with kids during school hours” anymore, there are still those who just don’t get it.

In the early years, we came up against a lot of resistance, even from family. My in-laws, usually super-supportive with any of their children’s endeavors, expressed their concerns early on, telling us how “children need to be around other kids” and saying they “needed to be out there in the real world.” After taking our boys, then six and eight years old, to a baseball game, their surprised pleasure was obvious when they realized our sons “weren’t strange and scared in a crowd or anything.” Their surprise was certainly second to my own surprise that they’d even considered worrying about it. After that event, though, they began getting the kids school supplies during the “back to school” sales, and we knew they were on board.

For some reason, homeschoolers attract that same breed of person who will rub the tummy of a pregnant stranger, not ever considering all the reasons why that is simply not an OK thing to do. Strangers in the grocery store (who would never approach me if I were shopping alone) seemed to have no awkward feelings about asking my children why they weren’t “in school” that day. When the child being questioned would say, “We homeschool, and we’re done already today,” the stranger would then proceed to give me unasked-for, uninformed, undesired advice. Did I ask for it? No. Did I want to stand there and listen to it? No. Did I value the person’s opinion? Not a whit. Did I grin and bear it? Sadly, yes. I hate being rude to strangers, even if they’re being rude to me. (My children will tell you I’m much better at being rude to people I know and love.)

When she was younger, our daughter had a T-shirt which had, “YES. I’m homeschooled. YES. I socialize. YES. I had class today,” written in bold letters across the front. It elicited many smiles and comments whenever she wore it. A cashier at a store once asked me, “But what about friends?” After I pondered what in the world that was supposed to mean, I asked her if she had friends. She said yes. I asked her if all her friends were from her grade school or high school (she was in her 30s, I’m guessing). She said no, as I’d anticipated. And yet she was puzzled when I asked why she thought my children couldn’t make friends outside the boundaries of a school building.

All of our children have been involved in various activities, from the standard swim lessons to riflery and archery clubs, youth groups and praise & worship bands. One of my favorite non-homeschoolers-don’t-get-it moments came when our oldest, Noah, was at the weekly archery shoot. One of the guys found out he was homeschooled and said, “Really? But you’re so normal!” and then proceeded to ask, “So do you have any friends?” Noah looked around at the gang of friends he was with (many of them homeschooled) and slowly said, “Uh…yeah…” But the guy couldn’t leave it at that; he persisted, “But do you DO anything?” at which point Noah exasperatedly said, “Well, I’m HERE, aren’t I?” We still laugh about that.

People make a big deal about the so-called “socialization” question [insert ominous music here]; in truth, I got in a lot of trouble in school for my brand of socializing—which is different from socialization, but that’s for another post. Or not. I was a good kid, mind you, but I liked to talk. Talking is part of being social and all, you know. Some might say…OK, well, all might say I still like to talk. Hey, it’s what I’m good at. And half of me is Italian, so add all the hand motions and I get a good cardio workout when I talk. But my point is that I don’t recall traditional school being a place where socializing was encouraged.

Strangers worry far more than I do about whether my children learn “what they need to” at [fill in the blank] age. They wonder how my children learned how to stand in line, something I suppose I never realized was part of a well-rounded curriculum. They wonder if I know what’s best for my children, and I wonder why they’d assume someone other than my husband or me would know what each child needs. They worry that my children might cheat on their tests, and I feel bad for all the kids whose teachers don’t make them fix their incorrect answers. Isn’t that the idea of learning?

For all those concerned: my children (who are old enough now at 13, 18, and 20 that “children” isn’t quite the right word for them anymore) are just fine. They have friends, homeschooled, private-schooled, cyber-schooled and public-schooled. Christian and non-Christian. Black, white, Asian, Mexican, Puerto Rican, and more. Friends who live in the US and friends who live on the mission field overseas. Musician friends and artist friends. Friends who are athletic and friends whose thumbs are in great shape from playing video games. Fat friends, skinny friends, friends who climb on rocks…you get the idea.

I actually like my kiddos. They can be some of the wittiest people on Earth when they’re in the mood. They make me laugh more than most people do. Our mealtime conversations are the stuff tell-all books are made of. They irritate me—most people do, sooner or later—and I irritate them. But overall, we enjoy each other. I firmly believe the time we’ve spent together because of homeschooling has benefited us in many ways that have nothing to do with academics. We get to spend time together when we’re fresh, not just at the end of the workday when everyone’s spent and cranky and hungry. They get to see that I’m a real person with a life real interests. They realize I can be fun sometimes. It’s not enough to make them ditch a fun event with friends in order to stay home with dear ol’ mama, but I have heard my boys tell their friends on occasion that they were just going to stay home because their dad had a day off from work and we were all just going to spend a day together.

Thankfully, we’ve never really had to deal with the huge teen-angst blowups people talk about. Not that our kids don’t get upset sometimes, or lose their tempers, but it’s rare. And when they do, they typically apologize later. No one has ever screamed, “I hate you!” in this house—not at me or my husband, anyway—and for that, I’m truly thankful. Angry words can be hurtful enough without throwing that into the mix. They might have been angry enough to say it, but it never came out verbally, and that’s important.

I thought about this today as our daughter (the youngest) came to me and said she wanted to take a bike ride, “so I don’t lose my temper and blow up at someone.” For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what would have prompted her to be angry enough to blow up at anyone, considering that she’d slept until almost noon, sat around reading for school, and was fairly inactive until we asked her to start a load of laundry an hour after waking (one of her standard chores which should need no reminding). I wanted to say no, because we were only fifteen minutes from sitting down to our main meal of the day (luppertime, don’t ya know). But she looked upset and my hubby, typically the voice of reason, gave her the OK. When I asked her if it was anything I could help with, she said, “No, just teen girl stress stuff.” Then she grinned and added, “You wouldn’t know, of course, since you’ve never been a teen girl before.” She didn’t storm out or stomp and slam the door. She simply left, knowing we weren’t going to push, and when she came back an hour later, she had a genuine smile and all was well in her teen world.

Maybe I’m stretching the connection, but I can’t help but think the scenario would have been much different if she were a peer-dependent girl in a traditional school who thought her parents’ opinion was far less valid than that of her friends. So to answer the stranger who worried that it would a go badly because “parents shouldn’t be around their kids that much,” I would say it’s worked out just fine for this family.