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During this Year For Priests we join in prayer for our beloved priests who bring the Sacrament of His Body and Blood to us. And, we pray that the Blessed Mother wrap her mantle around our priests and through her intercession strengthen them for their ministry.
The priest has the key of the heavenly treasures; it is he who opens the door; he is the steward of the good God, the distributor of His wealth.
-The Cure of Ars, St. John Vianney
St. John Mary Vianney, pray for us and all our priests!
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| Our Mother’s Garden of Sorrow |
| Mary Receives the Dead Body of Her Son |
Lamentations 1:12
Come, all you who pass by the way, look and see whether there is any suffering like my suffering.
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Loss of the Homeschooling Dream
Cay
The flowers are in bloom. A labyrinth of lush clover and dainty white wild flowers dots the expanse of lawn before me. Purple wild flowers, pink azaleas, and yellow pollen are strewn in a parade of springtime foliage. I sit on my patio with my notepad and pen in hand surveying yellow honey bees, green grasshoppers, and red birds springing to life amidst the green carpet. Life is good. Yet, like the solitary gray cloud adrift a blue sky, there is one muddy crawfish hole amidst this green lawn.
My young daughter wants to go to school, as in “real school”. This is her term. Not mine. This is her dream. Not mine. This is her interest. Not mine. This is her desire. Not mine. Yet while this notion is not mine, it becomes all about me. I begin to question myself and all that I am and all that I have come to believe.
I shouldn't take it personally but, as a home educating mother, one questions what she did wrong for her child to have this desire. My daughter and I have had long discussions about it. She is so curious and really wants to try it. And I, who am so willing to give my children every experience under the sun, feel like this is one experience that isn't on our calendar of seasons. And I rehash our lifestyle and tell myself that if she wants to attend a brick-and-mortar school it is because:
- I'm not creative enough
- I let her watch too much "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody"
- I'm on the computer too much
- I haven't encouraged her enough
- I'm not a good enough teacher
- I've been too liberal in letting her rub elbows with public schooled children
- I've allowed her to be in too many outside activities which has proven counterproductive and leaves her wanting more outside activity
- I read Ramona the Pest to her and she thinks all teachers are like Miss Binney
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And the list goes on. See how good I am at turning this into a ‘me’ experience? I figure if I'm the heart of the home then I have done something wrong and that's why she wants to venture away from our little school at home; and it grieves me. The very thought of relinquishing this ideal life is something I don't even want to think about, yet I am forced to look at our overall experience.
My older three began their academic learning in school so they all had a taste of that “real school” experience. I’m sure it’s a big part of why child #4 feels she's entitled to the experience. I was reading and researching home education as early as my oldest son's kindergarten year but didn't have the conviction and assurance to do it until he reached fourth grade and I was tired of dealing with teachers and how my child performed (or didn't perform) on tests. It seemed to be all about tests and not the whole-child.
For my son’s high school years he opted to go back to school and we let him; primarily because I was a curious soul wondering if this homeschooling adventure really worked. Could a child be homeschooled then thrown into the school system and survive, and survive well. Evidently he could. My son adjusted well and his grades were good and life went on. He opted to come back home his remaining two years of high school and he was our first homeschool graduate.
When my oldest son returned home to finish his education, I decided that we were going to be a homeschool family. I was tired of the second-guessing, the toying around with plans, the in and out, the ebb and flow, the back and forth of the decision making. It isn't healthy for a family. It certainly isn't healthy for children.
We settled into this homeschool lifestyle and it is definitely a lifestyle. It's not only about education. It's about us as a family. It's a philosophy that we are learning each and every day of our life...from the time we're born and begin learning language from our parents' lips to the time we are dying. Yes, our great and holy Pope John Paul II taught us the greatest life lesson of all…how to die with grace and resignation. In short, home education embraces life-long learning that is learned only outside of a brick-and-mortar building.
So I thought the issue of attending school in a brick-and-mortar building had been put to rest. Until February rolled around and my daughter began sounding again like the tiniest fiddle in the world. I knew it would help to hear how other homeschooling parents handled this dilemma of a child wanting to go to school. I dug around on my bookshelf for a past copy of an article written by Nancy Brown entitled Help! My Daughter Wants to Go to School (link provided below).
One truth in that article vibrated in my mind:
"Besides that, was the fact that we would dearly miss her presence in our family each day. Though her need seemed to be to broaden her horizons and move out into the world, our family needed her, too."
And Nancy extolled how often she realized she had to turn this decision over the prayer. And I knew I did too. I also decided to present the matter on the table to my husband and pray for his leadership. I spoke with him then he had a private conversation with our daughter.
What did Daddy say? Well, he's a mellow one who doesn't see what the big deal is. "Let her go. Let her see what it's like. One year won't hurt her."
And then he threw in the kicker. "Just think of all the writing you'll get done!"
And I stared at the albatross around my neck. Didn't he know that I write about homeschooling? Didn't he know that I write about our children? Didn't he know that our children fuel my ideas? Didn't he know that my mind feeds off our children?
Sitting at my computer all day and left to write for hours hardly appeals to me. Not having those moments to jump up and see the new animal fairgrounds created outside! Not having those moments to turn around and watch a puppet show? Not having those moments to sit and cuddle on the sofa and read great books and watch educational tapes! Not having those moments to run to the park, the ice cream shop, the theatre, the children’s museum, the library, the bookstore and call it all educational! Not having those moments to read a story that it took my daughter all morning to write! Not being presented half a dozen flower bouquets throughout the day! Not having those moments to look through curriculum catalogs and syllabus and plan next year's curriculum! Not having time for those long insightful conversations!
Enter the rat race of grades and forms and other people's schedules and the educational system's expectations! Ugh!
Then I heard a little voice in my head. "Is this really all about you?" it whispered. Is this about you and what you want? Or is it about your daughter and what is best for her?
What about the days I’m lazy in the morning, impatient at mid-morning, hurried at lunch time, frustrated in the afternoon, and ill-humored in the evening? What about the regret over a sharp word spoken, a kind word not spoken, a loving glance not given? What about the areas I'm lacking in? I know I struggle and slip down the slippery slope of expectations on a daily basis. I don't always do the best job I could or that God wants me to do. Every day I admit defeat to myself over something not learned, something not covered, something not done.
Then I faced the biggest dilemma of all. Was this really a pride issue? Was I falling into the same pit that made Lucifer loose his footing? Was I falling into the proverbial pit of thinking because I wrote about my children and our homeschooling that I had to keep my subjects with me under my constant radar?
I faced my conflict squarely and shouldered my responsibility. I knew one thing for certain. These children are my life and I love my life with them. I have not been called to be a Mother Teresa who gives life to the world at large. I was called by God to give life to these five people within my household. And, yes, I give them my life in much the way Christ gave His to His church. I give them my whole self. I give to them my eyes for admiring their work, my ears for hearing their stories and their problems and their decision making, my lips for giving advice and guidance and kisses, and my hands in support and service. This servitude is not restricted just to the children I have at home all day long.
My oldest daughter is still in school and we have had no reason to speak ill of her teachers, the lesson plans, her friends, or her conduct. If any child has been my guinea pig, she is it. I have anguished to my friends that my public school child might turn out better than my homeschooled children and wouldn't that be an abomination. My friends, being my friends, have laughed at me and assured me that this will not be the case because, whether the children are in school or not, we live a homeschooling lifestyle. It’s through the convictions we stand firm on at home that have afforded us this grace outside the home.
So I am always hesitant to proclaim that schools do not work and that by sending your child to school they might become a heathen. It simply isn't true.
Despite this, I still prefer the homeschooling lifestyle and style of education it affords us. It’s a beautiful lifestyle: freeing, giving, nourishing, and definitely better than anything the schools can offer us.
I flicked the little demon off my shoulder. I did not have to answer to him. I did not need him telling me I was not a good mother or a good home educator. I did not need him telling me I wasn’t good enough. I did not need him making me compare myself to others. And I certainly didn’t need him telling me what to do with my children. Take that, old Mister Screwtape!
God always fills in what I am lacking. Every morning I awake to warm hugs and chocolate milk kisses. Every morning I see coffee-bean Cajun eyes smiling at me and hear eager voices full of questions and curiosity. Every day there is a laugh and a joke. Every day there is someone sitting on my lap. Every day there are books strewn over the sofa. Every day something new is revealed. Every day there is a new word learned, a new thought projected. Every day I am surrounded by the people I love most in the world.
I realize, in a moment as fleeting as the seeds on a dandelion, that those moments are still mine to be had no matter how we decide to school. These children are still mine. These hugs and chocolate milk kisses, these Cajun eyes smiling at me, these questions, that laugh, that joke, these books! They all belong to the people I love most in the world and I still get first tabs on embracing them and teaching them the wonders all around us. We might not always be home-schooling, but I definitely hope we are always heart-schooling.
Life doesn't get any better than that.
Like the spring seeds floating and buried on my lawn, some ideals will be blown far away and some will stay firmly rooted. Like seeds, we are on an ideal mission given to us by God. That mission is to grow and multiple and beautify the earth and, in doing so, to give glory and honor to God. Seeds, like ideals, are merely blown down different paths. We all travel different paths, but many roads lead to Rome and they are all good...if we make them good. It is the one beautifully manicured, brightly foliaged lawn where we all hope to meet in the end that matters most of all. That is the cultivation we seek.
"Dear Lord, as I serve you through these children consecrated to You; give me, your faithful servant, an understanding heart to judge what will best lead my children to You and Your Son. Help me to distinguish right from wrong and to guide my children down the path You have chosen for them. Help me to be not afraid but to yield my hands and heart in joyful surrender to Your authority. Speak, Lord, I'm listening."
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