Discussion about this post

User's avatar
Jennie Chancey's avatar

Very true. My mother was a certified teacher when she decided to homeschool my siblings and me in 1982. Her first six weeks were extremely stressful to the point of nightly tears, because she was trying to import “school” into the home—and it didn’t work. We had a “schoolroom” with desks, a chalkboard, and a teacher’s desk for Mom. But with only three of us to teach (and my sister was four years old), the absurdity quickly became apparent. My father stopped her six weeks in and asked her why she was trying to stick with a model she had wanted us freed from. That’s when Mom threw out the “school in a box,” jumped my brother two grade levels ahead in math and pushed me back one grade level, since I struggled where he didn’t. My little sister got to enjoy genuine playtime instead of pre-school. As the years went on, Mom relaxed more and more as she saw we would gladly pick up topics that fascinated us and pursue them without being pushed or cajoled. But my very favorite memories are of listening to “Eroica” on the record player, gardening with Mom, and learning to piece together a pattern to make a new dress. It was hands-on real life that we loved, and the learning flowed out of that. It was scary for Mom to let go of all the teaching rules she had learned (and don’t get me wrong—she was still very organized and methodical), but it gave us the freedom to enjoy each day as a new adventure together. That is a great gift.

Katelyn's avatar

Love this! Thank you :)

12 more comments...

No posts

Ready for more?