Friday at last.

We will definitely be embracing the resting element of the weekend this Labor Day.
I have spent a bit of my "free" mental energy these days (a very slow trickle with a nearly broken circuit) weighing the work argument of homeschooling vs. traditional classroom.

The truth is, sending a child to school is a lot of work. There is the rigid in and out of the door in the morning, the lunches, the papers to organize and sign ranging from PTA forms to permissions slips to t-shirt orders, the homework to keep organized and to monitor in the afternoons. It is a busyness that is hard to explain exactly, but it is there - a constant stream of paper, details, and driving all centered around school.

I recognize that we were in a somewhat unusual situation. Gray, due to his tendency to talk through assignment explanations and daydream through classroom teaching times, relied very heavily on homework time. The reality: if I did not teach him the material at night, he did not know it. His classroom work, done without direct supervision, was generally unreadable and unfinished. His teachers knew he was capable of better-  his tests and assignments done at home reflected his abilities. (I never did them, but I forced revision and attention to detail.) Unfortunately, with two other kids at home, having every afternoon between 3 and 5 a battle with an exhausted child learning what he should have learned in class was too much. We could not enjoy the time we were spending together during the week. I dreaded Mondays and lived for Fridays.

Maybe I am doing it incorrectly, but in 9 days of school I have never felt more free. Granted, I am only teaching one student, and I have him alone for the first 3.5 hours of the morning. Alice is at school, Auden sleeps. I teach once (he listens and learns, there is nothing else to do!) when he is rested and fed. He practices and reinforces directly following.

As the news begins to find its' way out I can't go onto the school campus without being approached by a different parent. They all say a variation of, "That is so brave. I wish I could do that, but I would never be able to."  I think they might be saying this to make me feel better? Make themselves feel better? I don't know. I don't feel brave. I feel scared and uncertain. I can only answer for our circumstance. Every parent has a pile of heart-wrenching decisions to make (popular ones, unpopular ones) for the good and benefit of their child. It was a very difficult decision, fraught with only unknowns and one exception: If I did not do it because I was afraid of the time I would sacrifice, I would always regret it. What better way could I spend my time than on my child who I see needs me in this way? As it turns out, the time commitment so far is a drastic reduction from life before. Life is easier, simpler.