My husband and I decided to homeschool our son 3 months before he was set to start Kindergarten. With no certain plans, mentors or idea of how we would do it, we began and homeschooled for 2 years. During the second year, our son fell in love with a school he had been attending an enrichment program at and wasn’t interested in homeschooling anymore. We honored his request, enrolled him and he began full-time one week later.
Letting go of him was hardcore. It was sad. I missed him. I missed all that went into homeschooling but most of all I missed him being at home growing and learning so close to us. I knew the private school he was attending was the best for him. I knew that his heart was expanding by learning from a teacher who has a true passion for the teaching philosophy we are falling in love with. I knew that he was aware of what was best for himself. I’m practicing to ask specific questions about his day to open conversational doors so I can peek inside his time at a school. . .outside of our home.
Mom, I don’t want to do school at home this year. I want to go to school.
Gulp. I knew it was coming. I could feel it and although this year was different for me too, it was still hard to hear. Going into our third year of homeschooling he was picking up on my disconnect and confusion about the upcoming year. It was scary. It was sad.
If I’m being honest, I have to say I loved having my son at home for school. I loved seeing him learn and watching him make the connection when he discovered something new. I loved that we marched to our own beat. We learned at home, on a nature trail and during an impromptu evening learning experience. I loved that I knew what he was learning because we were teaching him. I loved to sit down and plan out what we would do during our school days.
Did all of this get overwhelming at times? Absolutely.
Did we have challenges along the way? Everyday.
Was there uncertainty? More than I ever thought possible.
Even when I acknowledge our hard days, I was still sad he wouldn’t be at home as much anymore.
This wasn’t about me. This was about him and what was best for him. This was about trusting him and his intuition that he knows what is best for himself. This was about truly listening and considering how he felt.
What I found amazing is that he could come to me and speak the truth. Speak what he knew I was feeling too, but didn’t have the nerve to face or fathom saying out loud. I was lost and he delivered the clarity. That’s magic. It’s magic that he delivered it. It’s magic that I realized it. It’s magic that we took action. It’s magic that even though our kids are younger and smaller, we respect their outlook just as we do our own.
At the time that I write this we are three months into our first full year at a private school. Our first full year of packing lunch each and everyday, commuting 40 minutes each way, going to bed at a certain time and waking to an alarm clock(gasp!). It’s my first time figuring out how to ask and inquire in anyway possible, without inundating him with questions, to get a glimpse at what he’s learning and how his day has been. To gain a glimpse of what he’s experiencing and discovering.
I miss my guy at home, I miss living his daily school experiences with him but I honor who he is and what is best for him. I love seeing his connection with his teacher. I love watching him connect with sources outside of our family. While it’s vastly different and hard to let go, I love the opportunity he has chosen for himself.
This is our season for now. It’s where we are and what he needed at the moment. I don’t know where we’ll go from here or how it will unfold but that’s what makes our parenting outlook and life philosophy so incredibly amazing.
Not much is permanent. If you make the wrong decision there’s always a right one to make to get out of it. It’s okay.
Listen to your inner guidance. What feels right? What is your intuition telling you? What if you did follow that, what is the worst that could happen? Don’t dwell on it, feel it and decide.
Trust. If you have kids, really listen and trust what they’re saying to you. Kids don’t come to this earth here to manipulate. Although it’s against common belief, my belief is we aren’t here to teach them, they are here to teach us. They know way more than we give them credit for. Their purity is magical.
Listen, trust and leap with two feet.