Ok, maybe not that far back.
When I was a child we “homeshooled” for awhile and it was not cool. (My Mom knows I’m not dissing her here!)
But, somewhere over the last couple years, this train has come off the rails.
The procreating. The puking. The nursing. The kid who struggled to read and the other kid who learned to read without even being taught. The move. The unpacking. The farm. The surprise baby. The long division tears. The read a chapter, answer the question monotonous school days.
Forget it. This is not sustainable. There is no way I can do this for another eighteen years.
The daily weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Somewhere I lost my passion for teaching my kids. I began to second guess every move I made. Comparing myself and my kids (foolishly) to others…literally thinking, “Am I screwing my kids up?”, “Was the plan I had… just plain stupid?”
It all began with the unexpected love I found holding my firstborn in my arms. I didn’t want to ever let him out of my sight.
I wanted to be the one to teach him, Shakespeare.
It’s as simple as that.
One day the thought crossed my mind how tragic it would be if I didn’t get to experience sharing with him those beautiful words. One thought led to another… I don’t want him to just learn about the Greeks… I want to take him to The Parthenon.
I don’t want him to just read about farm animals in a book… I want them to be a part of his daily life.
I don’t want to leave his theology up to a Sunday School teacher… I want him to snuggle with me on the couch and talk about God.
But day by day, stress by stress, I’ve drifted away from those passions and desires and I’ve now found myself with a son who really doesn’t like school, a daughter who has to function on her own cause I’m so busy keeping up with the others… a baby swinging from the chandeliers… and to add to my misdirection I’ve allowed an abundance of boring textbooks to infiltrate our school…. that is something I NEVER wanted.
So, somehow… somehow I’ve got to get back to my roots because… I wanted to be the one to teach him, Shakespeare.
So, today I called it.
I slammed those stupid textbooks shut and told the kids to get in the truck and we got the heck out of dodge.
Have you seen the sky this fall?
Have you seen the sky this fall?
It is so blue.
We escaped to Wisconsin. We found a tiny little orchard. Played with a pig. Ran wild. Rolled downhills. We gazed out onto the orchard and dreamed of living in Door Country.
Then we found a little lake and we walked 40 acres of prairie flowers. We hid under giant oaks. We talked about our hero, Laura Ingalls and seed pods and frogs and we sang, “How great is our God… Sing with me, how great is our God…”
How could we not sing those words under that majestic blue sky and that towering oak??? This Teacher Momma feels reborn. Ready to wipe the slate clean. Pun intended. Ready to set aside many of the rigid textbooks that crept into our school.
And ready to get back to that pure… hungry… love for learning.
We’ve got so much going in our favour… piano lessons, violin… french lessons… this farm… I’m just going to point us back in the right direction. I want to raise wild, adventurous children who crave knowledge… not dread it.
So… Charlotte Mason. Girlfriend, it’s you and me again.
And to my children… get ready to love school again. Momma is sorry for doubting herself.