What is it about this year?  Maybe having two kids in homeschool or the intimidating idea of the older one being in 5th grade (cue future laughter)  I don’t really know what it is, but for some reason, the start of this homeschool year feels like a lot.  I suddenly feel like I don’t know what to teach or how to begin.  I’m teaching my own children in our own home with no required program to keep up with, so why does this feel so scary?

I’ve been doing this for five years, so I can’t wrap my head around the anxiety behind this one.  Granted, my daughter’s kindergarten year was what I’d call “hardly-schooling” if I can coin that phrase.  I mean, yes, one of the main objectives behind our choice to homeschool was to give the kids more childhood and play, but we barely did any “school” that year.  So while some of her peers had a couple years of preschool academics under their tiny little belts and were continuing their journeys of sight words and math, we just went along with our days.  Honestly, it was a survival-mode year for me.  My son was newly one year old, and I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in over that amount of time.  I couldn’t tell if I was depressed because of the sleep deprivation or if it was its own separate challenge, but I reached some dark and scary spaces in that time.  So, we spent the first part of that school year just hanging out and meeting up with friends at the park.  And the second half was spent in a very stressful state of trying to move house.  Looking back with older, wiser eyes, I see that my daughter got almost exactly what I had been hoping for that year.  She spent the year outdoors and playing.  She took trips to Paris in her imaginative play and set up bookshops and scenes from books.  She made up dances and we read lots (and lots) of books and told lots of stories.  I planned small field trips for her and her friends to the library and the firehouse and the ice cream shop.  She even went to a small, but wonderful music class.  But, at the time, I just couldn’t quite see it.  I thought that our play-based education should look like Waldorf Pinterest pages and constant giggles, not this cobbled-together unknown that I felt I was offering.

My daughter’s first-grade year was the most stressful.  We had just moved to a new state and joined a homeschool program that included a once-a-week visit from a tutor and, most importantly, money to help pay for dance classes.  Despite (or maybe because of) my public school teacher background, I consider my approach and expectations of homeschool to be super relaxed.  And yet….  My daughter and I went to battle every. single. day.  Maybe it just became habit for us or we had other emotional stuff we were processing or she was simply in shock that I expected a bit more from school this year or maybe I expected too much.   Whatever it was, it was stressful and exhausting and the exact opposite of what I wanted for our family from the experience of homeschooling.  And in the rare moments all was going well and we were sitting together to do some learning, my 2-year-old son would come by and slam our book shut or throw Sister’s pencil across the room.  (And for those of you who want to interject about having cute-sy activity bags or baskets for the toddler, just, please.  Don’t.)   We’ve been blessed with two very strong-willed, passionate children who don’t sit quietly with the play-dough or puzzles in the corner.  I spent an embarrassing number of times “threatening” my daughter with enrolling in public school, while in the same breath ensuring her that public school was not at all a threat.  It was a time I don’t look back on proudly.  And then in March, the rug was pulled out from beneath everyone’s feet.  The whole world began schooling at home, and I got to hear about the lovely, sparkly things these other parents were doing with their children new to schooling at home.  I missed being in the small percent of homeschoolers.  But that 1st-grade year taught me a lot about my daughter and how she learns.  She’s absolutely the best candidate I’ve ever met for unschooling.  I don’t think we quite fit into the (oddly rigid) definition of what unschooling is, and I don’t think I have enough energy in me to actually unschool, but she most definitely thrives in an unschooling environment.

I rack my brain to remember my daughter’s 2nd and 3rd grade years, but they are a blur.  We did do school; I know that.  But I have no memories of what we did.  All I remember about my daughter’s 2nd grade year was that it went better than her 1st grade.  I was beside myself with joy.  I think I spent a good majority of this stretch of school panicked about her reading and writing abilities.  Part of my brain very much knew all would be well.  I trusted the process and my daughter’s intelligence and all the beautiful philosophies running around my head.  I don’t consider myself a person who often compares, but it was really a struggle not to think about benchmarks that public schoolers were hitting.  I knew that these kids had been practicing the skills much longer.  We have purposefully chosen to give our days more time and space for play and exploring, so it doesn’t even make sense to think my kids should have the same school-based knowledge at the same ages as their peers.  But, if I can find something to worry about, well, gosh darn it, I’m going to give it my all.  Of course, my daughter is an avid reader now, so much so that we have to beg her to put the books down to come eat or get out the door if we’re going somewhere.  The idea that her reading was ever a concern is laughable and you’d think – you’d hope- this would be another in a long list of life reminders for me to trust the process.

Last year I had two kids “in school” for the first time, which had always sounded daunting.  It wasn’t as tough as I’d thought, and it sure helps that they have the age gap they do.  But I do feel like I spent a good deal of time, especially towards the end of the year, picking out a stack of workbooks for my oldest.  Granted, I hand chose the pages and added handwritten supplements.  We went over the work together, all the things.  But I still felt the overriding bummed feeling that I wanted homeschool to be different than a pile of workbooks.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Julie Bogart podcasts this summer, which is always, 100%, the reassurance I need.  I absolutely resonate with what she says, and even though I’m never looking for permission to do things a certain way, it’s kind of like having a wise, good-hearted mentor standing by side and letting me know it’s ok to just relax and enjoy this journey and go at our own pace.  That should be making this year seem more calm and joyful, so why has it had the opposite effect?  I think finding the balance between structure (or routine or rhythm or whatever you want to call it) and flow is just a tough one for me to find.

Reflecting on our first years of homeschool is actually a very helpful reminder that all will be well.  We will figure it out and have experiences, and we will all learn regardless of what the first day looks like.  So, now to bed, so I can cuddle my students in the morning and begin our learning journey for the year.