Really?

Homeschooling always has sounded like a sweet option for education, especially after reading blog after blog online, published by mother after enthusiastic mother heralding the sheer joy they find in their experience. "It is the most holy, intimate experience..." gushes one. "There is nothing you could do that would bring you closer to your children," squeals another. And my personal favorite is, "Every moment is a joy."

Really? Every moment?

We started school on Monday out of boredom. The day before, Tian had ridden more than ten miles on her bike, circling my parents' neighborhood at least five times, admittedly losing count after the fourth lap. Silas had taken whining to a new spine-tingling level of perfection. And Tehva kept indiscriminately punching people, which meant that she was bored.

So I dug out the textbooks, trade books, and curriculum I had meticulously packed in the preceding weeks. I extracted a tiny cache of supplies and lesson plans I had prepared during the early summer and set up shop (or school) in my parents' dining room. Tian did a happy dance, and Silas shrieked with excitement. "All right," I thought. "This is going to rock!"

On Monday we started and the day went like a dream. The experience was truly everything those blogging, home school mommies had promised--close, joyous, (I wouldn't call it intimate), wonderful--it was the perfect teacher and the students finished the day energized by the experience.

Then came Tuesday. Within an hour Silas was under the table, crying, and I was reduced to pulling out all the tricks I had saved up after fifteen years of teaching other people's children. They worked miraculously on my own children but left me shaken and cursing those silly home school mommies. We were not enjoying every minute. Not even every other minute.

This morning (Thursday) school started and then ended just as quickly due to concentration issues from Silas, who leaked tears from the corners of his big, lashy eyes. A break, some outside time, and then an impromptu art lesson all served to bring him back onto the straight and narrow. However, during his language lesson the first sentence he penned was, "I hate homeschooling." (At least he used a pronoun, which was the assignment!)

My more seasoned and experienced friends who have home schooled say that tears on day 2, and every other day, sounds just about right. Whew.

Tian, meanwhile, has been wallowing in the experience like a pig in warm, stinky mud. Subscribing to the unit method of study, she has made herself a medieval loom out of a cardboard box and, throughout the day, when she has a spare moment or while being read to, she weaves. She also has planned a medieval feast, memorized a minstrel song, and is quite likely planning a jousting tournament on the sly. All the while she is also excelling in her studies, jumping through any hoop thrown before her.

Tehva still indiscriminately punches us and then runs away laughing. Nothing much has changed in her dysfunctional world, except now she can tell us what letter "punch" starts with, and she can read the words "me" and "am".

In spite of Silas's disagreements with the course of his education, we are going to continue on this path for the next year. Thus we are pulling out all the stops and doing whatever educational nonsense strikes our fancy. Or my fancy. Or my and Tian's fancy. No matter what we do, Tehva will haul off and smack us and Silas will cry.

Next post I will attach videos and photos of what we have done this week! We are big home school goobers, even though we are not really enjoying EVERY moment.