I knew this day was coming – in fact, I planned it out and set it up to happen this way. As I cleaned out the brushes for one last time and scrubbed paint off the sink (not my sink, thank you fellow homeschooler for loaning your house!) I felt sad. I still feel sad. The absolute worst thing about moving is pulling up the roots you’ve put down.
For your average family, the roots may look slightly different. Homeschoolers have the same relationships too, but homeschool roots are special. Those homeschool roots grow deep, and it really hurts to pull them out of the tight-knight community.
You’ve probably already heard about the higher education scam where wealthy parents paid to cheat the system for their kids. In fact, you’ve probably heard so much about it that you’re both nauseated and bored with the details. Most people that I know aren’t shocked – this is just proof of what we all knew was happening.
Still, I wanted to peel apart how I’m feeling about it. And I do that best by writing.
Last summer when I sat down with the Standards of Learning (SOLs) and planned out our homeschool year, I tossed most of the social studies section in the trash. In Virginia, second grade social studies leans heavily on American history, with emphasis on famous American figures, patriotic symbols and meanings, and early major events like the Revolutionary war.
I never understood the reasoning behind that. Sure, we should understand the basics of our own country’s history, but an overview of history and where we fit in seems more appropriate at this age. Why should American history come before world history?
Eloping is one of those funny words – it has more than one meaning, and most people only know one. The fun one. The “run-off-and-get-married-on-a-whim” kind of meaning. Which makes it really odd and considerably confusing when I write a sentence like this:
Today, my son tried to elope.
Language alert: this is me in my don’t care kind of mood. If swearing offends you this post isn’t your cup of tea.
This is probably one of those posts where a certain percentage of my readers are going to gasp and think “she’s such a horrible parent!” Maybe I am. I prefer to think of it as giving my kids a well-rounded education in “how to be a mature human.” Something like that. Of course, we’re still working on the basic stuff like “how to pick up after yourself” and “how to use the toilet without leaving a mess,” so I guess this is a work in progress.
Raising kids is weird. Seriously weird. I mean, how can you have this philosophical discussion with them one moment and the next you’re screeching at them to wash their hands because “we don’t pick our noses!?” Weird. They had a discussion tonight on who was the robot and who was the alien. Newsflash kids, you’re all aliens. Until you’re … say … somewhere around 20. Even then, it’s debatable.