For the second or third time since becoming the mother of a school-aged-child in 1991, we have opted to homeschool. The very first time, our dear oldest daughter was trying out public school after several years in a private Christian school. Her third grade year was fine--she knew a lot going in. Fourth grade brought myriad problems as our daughter's hip, young teacher was very quick to tell her Jesus was a religious figure and ABSOLUTELY NOT a historical figure. We fixed that. Then I caught the teacher screaming (literally, and name-calling) at our daughter in the nurse's office--she had no idea the phone on the nurse's desk was off the cradle and I was on the other end of it. After a very direct meeting the next morning with the teacher and her boss, we fixed that one, too. But fifth grade was another story. We were no longer dealing with religious issues--these people were making our daughter dumb. And it was only the second week of school!
Somewhere along the way, our local elementary school convinced our daughter that quantity was better than quality. The teacher reported happily that our girl was smart as a whip and completed all her work, and then some. One day, while sifting through her Friday folder, a social studies test caught my eye. I was thinking it was one for the refrigerator since it had a great big 100% at the top. And then I looked closely: Our daughter believed Pennsylvania was the capital of Philadelphia and so did her teacher. (The converse isn't even true--it's Harrisburg!) There were several other--five in all--equally ridiculous answers marked correct. I ordered a fifth-grade curriculum over the weekend and she never went back to that school. At some point, she went back to her former private school.
The next time we attempted homeschooling--about a year later--was a disaster and some of the children are still in therapy. The baby was in the playpen; the preschooler was learning her letters; the first grader DESPISED reading; the fourth grader kept feeding his pencils to the dog; and the sixth grader (dear oldest daughter) was just trying to do the right thing. And then I turned up pregnant. The poor kids didn't know which way was up! Half the time I was Mary Poppins and the other half I was Cruella de Ville. Then, one day, my precious husband walked in early from work and after looking at his children's tragic expressions, said the most beautiful words: "Call Cape Christian and see if they'll take all of them on Monday." They did.
I am no longer Mary Poppins or Cruella de Ville, 11 years have flown by since then, and there's no way on earth I'm turning up pregnant again. This brings us to our current homeschool experience, a story that will come in just a short day or so.
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