Homeschool Postmortem

One night last week when Tim got home from work, he sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh and said, "Well, America didn't burn down today." I shook my head and said, "I doubt I'd even notice if it had."

I was so consumed with my own problems, I barely noticed our country was headed toward an apocalypse. Disclaimer: I am aware that my problems are not real problems. They are the kind that can only come up in a life with abundance and options. 

By the end of a whopping three months of homeschool, I found myself increasingly worried, anxious, and exhausted. I was taking kind of a triage approach to the areas of learning and well-roundedness that I envisioned for them -- choosing each week a different thing to make my focus, and then letting that thing go to the backburner when something else took precedence. For example, one week I'd be on their case to spend more time reading; the next, I'd be after them to spend more time outdoors because this is what homeschooled kids are supposed to be doing. This was supposed to be the whole point of taking them away from hours of Zoom! I was supposed to be cultivating an environment where learning is happening even when we're not "doing school" -- but the only thing flourishing was laziness and complacency. I never for a minute forgot all the things they should be learning and doing every day, not just sometimes. I just didn't have the mental bandwidth to deal with more than one thing at a time. It took me a long time to admit I was in a crisis, but I think if you were to ask Tim, he started seeing my distress signals early and often.

This post has to have pictures, whether or not they have anything to do with anything.

This is so embarrassing for me to admit, but first I gave up the science curriculum because we weren't liking it, and then I scrambled to come up with something new. I didn't like the history either, so I gave it up for a few weeks and then went back to it because I couldn't come up with anything I liked better. Looking back, it was all hastily chosen, and the only thing that worked out well was the language arts. I was unable myself to keep up with the schedule I created for us, and thought that's OK, I'll ease up. We'll adapt and do what works for us. We all did physical education together in the beginning; then I said they need to do a physical activity on their own; then I forgot about it entirely. Saxon Math gave way to Khan Academy. Everything started to slip through my fingers. I set what I thought were reasonable daily goals, weekly goals, and then wondered why it was so dang hard to meet them. I needed help, but this was my show, and co-ops are not an option where we live. (It would have been yet another place to drive anyway -- lest we forget I have two other children in two other schools.) I would vent my frustration to Tim, who dealt as best he could, backing my efforts when possible, but this wasn't something he was prepared to take on after a day at work. And he did not like coming home to a stressed out Rachael.

One day, and which day in particular it was, I don't remember. Only that it was the last week before area schools were to go on Christmas break. Probably Monday or Tuesday of that week. A lot of things were going through my head, like it's not supposed to be this way...nobody is appreciating my efforts...I'm trying so hard...this is all for them, but they don't even care... All of a sudden, into my mind flashed a quote from The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis: "She's the sort of woman who lives for others -- you can always tell the others by their hunted expression." I sat there stunned, my pity party brought to an abrupt, record-scratching end. I knew I was in real danger of turning into this fearsome specter who "lives for others."

We brought back family game night, starting with the one Santa brought us this year, Ticket to Ride. It's  a winner.

Nobody had asked me to do any of this. Nobody was requiring me now to do any of this. I had brought it all on myself. I sent up a quick prayer and went once more to the girls. They readily agreed that I should enroll them at the middle school to start after the break. Things moved very quickly after that. A few clicks of a keyboard and it was done. When it sank in I let out a body-deflating sigh, put my face in my hands, and allowed the tears to flow. I had had such high hopes for this little venture, and now it was another failed experiment.

It was singularly humbling to face the fact that I could not do this myself. To admit that I was not serving my family well in the capacity of middle school teacher. To realize that all the really great reasons there are to homeschool in the time of COVID or otherwise, just really don't apply to me or my family. While the current situation is not ideal, my girls are capable of keeping track of their own schedules and doing their own work, and they are motivated to do so by their teachers who are somebody besides me. 

It took a while before I came around to this kind of perspective. For several days I just felt like I'd fallen flat on my face. Tim listened, comforted me, and gave me space to go through my mourning process. It was tough. I didn't want to even look at the materials we had, and kept thinking what a waste. I felt so defeated and like, what was the point? Maybe it will make sense one day why I had to go through this. As Olaf said, "This will all make sense when I'm older." 😅 I think that if I had started homeschooling the girls when they were little, this would be a very different story. We are all too set in our ways. 

The week they went back to school, it took a little more doing to get Delaney into the math class she belonged in. The school only wanted her to be in it if she had been in it since August. I hadn't seen this coming, obviously. I don't want to go into the boring details, but as I put it to Tim, "I interfered once and messed things up, and now I've got to interfere one more time to make it right!" I pleaded my case, citing the crazy times we're in. It's funny because I'm usually the parent no one even knows about, but I'm pretty sure the middle school staff know my name now (and are hopefully not cursing it). But they were very gracious and accommodating, the girls are now settled in and back to work, and I can recede to the background again. For those of you I asked to pray for a special intention -- that was it! Thank you and thank God.

I have to say, now that this is all said and done, I am sooo relieved. I am so glad not to be carrying this burden. There is still time and now a little more mental energy to dedicate to teaching them things they won't learn in public school. I can tell they're happier too, and looking forward to being back with their friends next Friday when they go back to, what is it? Plan B, one day a week in person. (That's the plan anyway, we'll see how it actually goes.) They are once again spending many hours in Zooms, but as long as I've got a kitchen stocked with food, I can count on seeing them a few times a day. Earlier this week I got my first robocall in about six months, informing me that Delaney's going to be looking at a high school course catalog and registering for classes soon.😲 Can you believe it? Our naptime Poopcasso is going to high school in a few months. 

I've read this book three or four times, and I've gotten something new out of it every time. The letters are written by a senior devil to a novice one, giving advice on how to secure a soul's damnation. Of course Uncle Screwtape is unwittingly instructing us readers how to live our best lives, avoid temptations, and get to heaven when we die. It is humorous, insightful, sometimes downright chilling, but just. so. good. Not a single wasted word. I love everything CSL.