Why We Homeschool

Yesterday my husband stated, "99% of all homeschoolers are religious."


With that opening, I thought I would start off this blog by explaining how we became homeschoolers, and why this is the right journey for our family.  We are entirely secular, no religious under or over tones implied. 


Looking back, the journey was odd, full of interesting moments when the seeds for homeschooling were planted in my reluctant mind.  At one of my son's baby shot appointments, a nurse sarcastically asked me if I was planning to homeschool.  She wasn't being nice, let alone factual, but there it was.. the first time anyone had mentioned anything about homeschooling to me.


The final pushes were an odd combination of a growing worry about the true purpose of public education, a few months of research to write a paper about why I would want to be a teacher (and by the end of it certainty that I would never be one after all), and actual issues within the school system for our own children.



Our daughter was struggling at the end of her Kindergarten year.  Her wonderful K teacher encouraged me to help her at home, and I jumped in wholeheartedly (and a bit broken-heartedly).  I was convinced my daughter must have a learning issue, and that it would be an incredible struggle to teach her the very basics.  Boy, was I in for a surprise!  Smart, eager to learn, and a complete sponge, my daughter picked up the letter sounds and how to apply them incredibly fast.  Within 2 weeks, she went from reading 5 words on her sight-words list to 18.  But.  and it's really a very large BUT... the school did not appreciate how my daughter was reading.  "She sounds words out," they said, as though that was a bad thing.  Fluency, comprehension, and reading an entire sentence even if some of the words were WRONG was considered much, much better than the slow-but-accurate way my daughter was now reading.  However, I did my homework, stuck with phonics, and my daughter's confidence and abilities grew at an astounding rate over the summer.  We learned to work very well together in those three months, which was probably the beginning of the end for our public school career: I realized there is no magic secret.  The best way to teach children is whatever way they learn (and you teach) best. 


When our daughter returned to school in the fall, I discontinued my lessons.  She could now read the full compliment of sight words, and most she knew so well they were automatic now.  Unfortunately, she still could not learn with sight words, and in less than a month her new teacher began to complain.  As she struggled, our daughter's lack of confidence bled into other things in school, as well, until she seemed unable to spell or do the simplest math there, either.  At home, though, she could easily count, do very basic math, spelled to an astouding degree, and continued to amaze us with her abilities.  My husband and I spent several pointless months attempting to work with the school system (which was only willing to consider a remedial reading program for our daughter- also of sight words- and remained adamently deaf to anything involving "auditory learners", "direct instruction", or *gasp* "phonics", nor did any of our suggestions ever get taken seriously).  My frustration reached a boiling point, but not before my worry started to eat at me: what would the future hold for my smart little daughter, who wanted desperately to be a veterinarian, if she never learned to read or do math?   Web searches produced frightening results: even if our daughter learned to read (somehow), she could easily become one of the staggering statistics for functional illiterates.  Worse, she had become phobic about books, and her eyes would tear up if asked to read anything as long as a sentence.  Finally, after an email from the teacher (telling me, in short, to 'eff off', although in much nicer language) my husband realized they were not going to work with us at all, and gave me the go-ahead to pull her out.


With our daughter, we knew what learning issues we were facing, and with a vengence, we started slaying her ghosts.  Within a month, she was completely caught up to her peers in math and quickly zoomed ahead.  It took months of tears to heal the emotional wounds, but eventually we convinced her that there is absolutely nothing wrong with her, that she is incredibly smart and capable, and that nothing will hold her back from whatever she can dream up.  Reading, although still not easy, has lost it's terror for her, and her dedication and determination to learning could teach us all lessons on overcoming adversity.


For our son, it was a different story.  Beginning in second grade, he was having daily morning meltdowns.  Just getting him on the bus was a horrible struggle, and I'm embarassed to admit we both were in tears on numerous occasions.  We tried talking to our son, talking to his teacher, changing his bedtime, lowering expectations, raising expectations... nothing helped.  He was fine over the summer, but a few weeks into the new school year, the struggles began again.  Part of the problem was time: there was not enough hours to play (which all kids need), eat, do homework, AND reconnect with us and his sister.  Something had to give, so I picked... homework.  His grades were as high as they could be, and his failure to complete it had no effect on them.  I encouraged his teacher to challenge him more in math, thinking some of his struggle might be boredom.  At the end, he was going to bed in tears and waking up in tears.  If he had been an adult, I would have suggested a hiatus.  As a child, he had no rights to that, no matter how poor his mental health was becoming.  On the very last day of his public school career, he got off the bus with a completely dead look on his face.  He looked like the kids in pictures from third world countries.  When asked if he was ok, he said he was fine and seemed to believe it, too, but I felt I was watching the death of my child, from the inside out. 


The academic journey for our son has been more difficult than I thought.  For an A student, he has had to repeat or remediate far too many skills.  He is a grade behind in his math book (by his choice) and we reviewed phonics (by mine).  He hates to read with a passion I cannot understand, although the phonics remediation was a huge help.  Mentally, though, he is a different child: bright, perky, often helpful.  Meltdowns are rare, now, and although he doesn't like schoolwork, he is an interested (and interesting) student.


Homeschooling has meant more, though, than better educational quality or better well-being for our family.  We spend a lot of time together, we know each other.  My children spend time teaching each other things, whispering together, just being in the same room because they honestly like each other.  Visiting friends, family, and general public outings are incredibly easy now: my children are calm, almost always well-behaved, and rarely need to be spoken to.  My husband works an odd shift for his job, and homeschooling means he has many hours to watch our children grow up, as well.  Homeschooling gives us the freedom to go anywhere, at almost any time, as a family.


Homeschooling is not for everyone.  I know families who don't have the time, the inclination, the intentions of ever homeschooling.  And that is PERFECTLY OK.  I wish, selfishly, that every family chose the path we have, but that is neither fair nor realistic.  Every family must do what is best for them, and homeschooling is not the easy-escape to anything.  I put in many more hours developing material for my children than they ever do learning it- but that is MY choice.  I mention this, mostly, because I think public schooling families often feel that homeschoolers are making a judgement call about THEIR educational selection.  I will tell you, I think almost every homeschooler I have heard talk about it says the same: this is what works for OUR family.  You must do what you can for your own, no matter what that choice is.