Homeschool Vital Signs: A 9-Year Checkup

There is great value in not being able to – not being able to afford stuff, to having to wait and work really hard to get something. (Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney)

This quotation has gotten me thinking about homeschooling.

I remember when I first started. My oldest had gone through a year of public school kindergarten, and I had mixed feelings about it. It hadn’t been terrible, but nothing much had been accomplished. All the amazing potential she had was still just that: potential. Instead of books, her teacher showed movies during their breaks in the day. Instead of sparking some of that amazing 5-year-old enthusiasm for learning and creative energy, kindergarten tired her out. Instead of lots of play and learning to negotiate social interactions with peers, there were lots of tests and lots of sitting.

That spring I met a few homeschoolers who debunked my stereotypes and steered me toward some good books on homeschooling. Within a short time I was hooked. We’ve homeschooled ever since. But what began with grand visions has been disciplined by 9 years of day-by-day experience. Lately, I’ve felt my momentum waning. It’s like what they say about the body accumulating toxins and getting clogged and slowed. While I’m not sure if those toxins really do accumulate — after all, we have a liver that filters toxins — I know that I don’t have a metaphorical liver to filter the stresses that add up to homeschool fatigue:

• Continually tweaking the system of curriculum choices, daily habits, grading decisions, family relationships, and household function;
• The weight of responsibility for my students’ academic development, college preparedness, conformity to state standards, social life, and spiritual development;
• The financial challenge of living on one full-time income (actually, 2/3 of one full-time income, as 1/3 of it goes to taxes), and my efforts this year to juggle a part-time online job;
• General weariness as I approach the mid-century mark.

Add these up, and you can guess how clearly I manage to maintain focus on the original grand vision of homeschooling.

And yet… I still believe in what we’re doing. Why? First, because I see results. While I wouldn’t say they could only be produced by homeschooling, the fact that they occur shows that this is working for us. When I look at my students, I notice:

• They are thoughtful about things they read and observe
• They can learn independently and intentionally, without requiring entertainment
• They are not captivated by screens, gadgets, or clothes
• They have a wider imaginative and literary world than they would have had otherwise, and we share that world
• They are not controlled by peer pressure
• They are aware of other people, and care about them
• They’ve had opportunities to explore what they are interested in
• Their character has developed in an atmosphere of loving relationships, and discussion about our faith and its relevance
• They’ve had time — time they have filled with artistic pursuits, reading, nature study, and outdoor activity

The difference is that now, when I think of homeschooling, I don’t think in general terms. I see it all through the filter of the stresses and anxieties and daily challenges. The filter doesn’t totally block out the wonderful results that are happening, but it is cluttered and noisy enough to make me stop and look at it. I started this post with a quotation about how something normally considered a deficiency is actually of “great value.” So I find myself wondering: is there “great value” in the stresses themselves? Is anything being accomplished by what I consider the undesirable parts of homeschooling?

What do you think? My short answer: yes. But I’m thinking this reflection is probably long enough already for now. It will have to be continued. Meantime, I’d love to hear your thoughts!