Last week Naomi asked if she could go to public school, and it kind of broke my heart.
I shouldn't have let it get to me so much, but I spend so much time questioning my ability to do this thing right--that I took it as a vote of no-confidence. Eliza, too, has been talking now and then about how nice it would be to go to school with her friends. And this job is just hard enough that I spend a little time fantasizing about it myself.
I keep thinking about the local charter school with its progressive philosophy on education, its no-homework policy, and its great teachers with real lesson plans and beautifully decorated learning environments. I think, maybe I'm not good enough to do this. Maybe home school is just too hard for the likes of me. Maybe I should give up this dream while these kids still stand a chance.
Eliza found me crying in my room, and she blew me away with kindness and wisdom. She pragmatically identified a major fallacy in my thinking: that when she and the other kids fantasize about public school, they are not thinking the way I think. They're not dreaming about academic glory; they're thinking that it would be one big happy play date with friends. She also pointed out that Naomi has made huge strides since we took her out of public school, and kindly told me that she thought I was doing a great job teaching.
How fitting and slightly ironic that it was Eliza who came to my rescue that day. Eliza, who can see every one of my flaws. Eliza, who can sense that she would be a huge success socially at intermediate school. But really, her highly thoughtful nature qualified her perfectly to help me. She may be perfectly aware that I have failings, but she's also highly attuned to my strengths. And I'd like to think that her beautifully rational mind, her critical thinking skills, and especially her deep compassion have been in some way developed and enhanced because of our decision to teach her at home.
And you know, she's right. We've done great things here. And all the well-trained, amazing teachers in the world can't replace me if this is what God has planned for our family. And He has.
Naomi and I had a talk the next day, and I told her that she's staying home for the time being, because I know in my heart that it's the best place for her. I reminded her that she kind of hated public school, and that she kept asking me to home school her. I told her that if she wants more time with friends, she has at least six within walking distance. And I told her that she has intermediate school band to look forward to.
Keeping public school or the charter school up my sleeve in case of emergencies served me well for the first few years. But the more time goes on, the more I feel that back door is letting in a chill of self-doubt. And while I don't require of God a twenty-year plan--even if he tried, I'm not a good listener--yet He has given me my marching orders for this year. And I want to feel more settled. I want to feel that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing.
So this is my quest this year. To see more purpose, more blessings, and more long-term joy coming out of this little home school experiment. And to close the back door. I won't lock it, but I want to feel warm here, so it needs to close.
I shouldn't have let it get to me so much, but I spend so much time questioning my ability to do this thing right--that I took it as a vote of no-confidence. Eliza, too, has been talking now and then about how nice it would be to go to school with her friends. And this job is just hard enough that I spend a little time fantasizing about it myself.
I keep thinking about the local charter school with its progressive philosophy on education, its no-homework policy, and its great teachers with real lesson plans and beautifully decorated learning environments. I think, maybe I'm not good enough to do this. Maybe home school is just too hard for the likes of me. Maybe I should give up this dream while these kids still stand a chance.
Eliza found me crying in my room, and she blew me away with kindness and wisdom. She pragmatically identified a major fallacy in my thinking: that when she and the other kids fantasize about public school, they are not thinking the way I think. They're not dreaming about academic glory; they're thinking that it would be one big happy play date with friends. She also pointed out that Naomi has made huge strides since we took her out of public school, and kindly told me that she thought I was doing a great job teaching.
How fitting and slightly ironic that it was Eliza who came to my rescue that day. Eliza, who can see every one of my flaws. Eliza, who can sense that she would be a huge success socially at intermediate school. But really, her highly thoughtful nature qualified her perfectly to help me. She may be perfectly aware that I have failings, but she's also highly attuned to my strengths. And I'd like to think that her beautifully rational mind, her critical thinking skills, and especially her deep compassion have been in some way developed and enhanced because of our decision to teach her at home.
And you know, she's right. We've done great things here. And all the well-trained, amazing teachers in the world can't replace me if this is what God has planned for our family. And He has.
Naomi and I had a talk the next day, and I told her that she's staying home for the time being, because I know in my heart that it's the best place for her. I reminded her that she kind of hated public school, and that she kept asking me to home school her. I told her that if she wants more time with friends, she has at least six within walking distance. And I told her that she has intermediate school band to look forward to.
Keeping public school or the charter school up my sleeve in case of emergencies served me well for the first few years. But the more time goes on, the more I feel that back door is letting in a chill of self-doubt. And while I don't require of God a twenty-year plan--even if he tried, I'm not a good listener--yet He has given me my marching orders for this year. And I want to feel more settled. I want to feel that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing.
So this is my quest this year. To see more purpose, more blessings, and more long-term joy coming out of this little home school experiment. And to close the back door. I won't lock it, but I want to feel warm here, so it needs to close.
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