Archives for November 2004

People LIVE in this House

I went to a party once in a furniture store. Actually, it was held in the brand-new home of a young couple who had just recently married. I was visiting a friend of theirs and attended as her guest, so I do not know much about the hosts themselves, except that they were obviously not hurting financially. The one thing I do remember clearly from this evening was the extremely sterile feeling of the house. I would call it a “home,” but that implies an entirely different feeling from calling it a “house,” which is what it was. It was a house where this couple lived, but it did not feel like a home. It looked as though someone had walked into a very large furniture store and said, “I’ll take one of each, all in the same style, please.”

The living room furniture matched the dining room furniture, which matched the family room furniture, which matched the kitchen furniture. You can use your imagination to figure out what the rest of the place looked like. Every piece in every room was an exact complement to every other piece in every other room. Although it looked nice, it did not have a feeling of “family.” There were no hand-me-downs, no family treasures, no heritage. No doilies crocheted by Great Aunt What’s-her-name, no sepia-tinted photos of ancient, unnamed ancestors, no chipped fruit bowl.

At first glance, I was envious, dreaming what it must be like to have everything new, not handed down family cast-offs. However, the longer I remained in the house, the closer I was able to see everything. There were no scratches, no water-rings, no dents or marks on anything. It began to feel alien. The realization of “family” came over me as I thought about my own home with Grandma’s rocking chair, Grandpa’s nightstand, and the mirror Mom was tricked into buying at a farm auction. I have hand-me-downs galore. I have family. Grandpa helped my son build the birdhouse in the backyard. Grandma gave us the dishes in the cupboard; the cupboard was given to us by my brother-in-law. Almost everything in my house bears a scratch, a dent, or some other mark giving a hint to its life story.

The furniture in my house is not always easy to see. It is often at least partially hidden under books, papers, an occasional article of clothing, or a bowl holding a half-dozen popcorn kernels. The dog feels much more secure knowing that a chew toy is within easy reach at any point in his realm, so my efforts to corral them into a basket behind the end table are usually thwarted by his scampering/scattering ritual. In other words, people live in this house.

We do not go out the door promptly at 7:30am each day, abandoning our home to remain lonely, but in perfect order, for the greater part of the day. A family lives here. A homeschooling family lives here — a family that reads books and occasionally eats in front of the television set in the living room. We often leave video tapes piled near the TV — with their cases strewn about elsewhere. At the moment, a throw pillow has been thrown onto the floor and remains there. The dining room table is barely recognizable under a recent art project, a three-ring binder, assorted papers, index cards, and pizza coupons. The dog is lying serenely beside me with his squeaky bunny and teddy bear close enough for a quick game of shake and growl. A family lives here.

It is not at all unusual to find dishes in my sink — dirty ones. The dish drainer is frequently found sitting full of clean, but unshelved, dishes. Laundry can sit undone, bathrooms can remain uncleaned, and the whole place is often cluttered. Do not mistake my meaning: I do not think of myself as a poor housekeeper, but people live in this house. I could (try to) keep my house as clean and uncluttered as a magazine layout, but no one would enjoy spending time here. I could grab the dishes out from under you as soon as a meal was finished and whisk them back into the cupboards in sparkling condition, but it would remove a great deal of the peace from dinnertime. Speaking of magazine layouts, have you ever looked closely at some of those photo-spreads? No world exists outside their windows — most likely because the fake window is set up as part of a fake room inside a photo studio full of other fake things (fake plants, fake food, fake world).

I accept the fact that people live here. I do not chase them around with the vacuum cleaner, and I do not make them wait to use the bathroom until I have re-cleaned it following its use by a guest. (Someone actually did that to me once — I was pregnant at the time, and I nearly caused there to be more to clean than just the stool and sink.) My home is clean, though often cluttered. My home is clean, but never sterile. People live in this house, and I want them to know that they are infinitely more important to me than my house is.

POST SCRIPT
Consider the wisdom in Proverbs 14:4, shown here in several translations for clarity.
“Where no oxen are, the manger is clean, but much increase comes by the strength of the ox.” (New American Standard Bible)
“Where there are no oxen, the manger is empty, but from the strength of an ox comes an abundant harvest.” (New International Version)
“An empty stable stays clean, but no income comes from an empty stable.” (New Living Translation)
A house without a family may stay cleaner than a home full of children, family, and friends, but where is the fun in that? — Guilt-Free Homeschooling paraphrase of Proverbs 14:4

Discouraging Families

Oh, give me a home where the school is my own,
Where the students are my own children,
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
From my relatives, neighbors, and friends.
Is it really possible to have family members who fully support your desire to homeschool? I do not know. Maybe it is possible — if they already homeschool, too.

Most of the people reading this article are searching for some hope, some light at the end of the tunnel. You are feeling outcast, weighed down under the persecution of loved ones who just do not understand your desire to educate your children in the way you see as best. My words of encouragement may seem insufficient at this point, but I strongly urge you to “Hang in there!” It is rare for relatives to remain devoutly anti-homeschooling for a long time. Usually, family members who see you and your children with any frequency will soon begin to notice positive differences between your children and the average government-schooled children and will begin to alter their attitudes accordingly. However, there may be cases where you will need to limit your time with certain friends or relatives, steering the topics of conversation to less flammable areas, such as politics, money, or religion.

When we decided to homeschool, we only told our parents. We let them tell our siblings. Yes, it was the coward’s way out, but you probably did something just as spineless. My sister told Mom that my children would turn out “weird.” Using my nieces and nephews for the “normal” standard, my children are very weird. Using my standard for “normal,” my nieces and nephews are the weird ones. It did take a few years for everyone to “come around,” but now they all accept our homeschooling efforts — a few relatives even applaud us.

From my own experience, I can say that my children were the best “salesmen” for convincing our reluctant relatives. When we made our appearance at the family holiday dinners, even the most adamant aunts and uncles had to admit that my children did not have antennae sprouting from their heads. My offspring were able to converse intelligently with the adults, relating fantastic details of our latest field trip or interesting experiment, while their non-homeschooled cousins hid in the far reaches of the house, silently transfixed by video games and only grunting monosyllabic responses to any attempts at conversation.

When we were questioned about the schoolwork we were doing, I let my children answer as often as possible. They were perfectly capable of speech; why not let them gain a little experience at being interviewed? My husband and I were always close by to supplement the answer, if needed, but usually our children were able to give competent, first-hand testimony of exactly what they were learning. My son’s favorite question was always, “What grade are you in now?” to which he would smugly respond, “In which subject?” followed by a rapid-fire dissertation of each subject and his corresponding grade level, emphasizing the subjects in which he was ahead of his peers.

When confronted by a nosy, know-it-all friend/neighbor/relative, I was ready with knowledge of the legal requirements for homeschooling in our state and an account of how we were meeting those requirements. (Find the legal specifics for your state at http://www.hslda.org/.) I have yet to meet a parent utilizing the public school system who knew anything about the state’s laws pertaining to education. They usually changed the subject on me once they realized that I probably knew more about their children’s education than they did.

I explained what we were doing for our children’s education. I answered all the (reasonable/legitimate) questions that were fired at us. I knew legal requirements and facts, and I could throw in a few well-placed statistics for good measure. I tried to avoid arguing (not always easy for me), focusing my responses around, “This is what we are doing; you may do what you want to do.” I defended our position, but I learned not to try to recruit. When someone had specific questions about getting into homeschooling (which always seemed to be “for a friend”), they would seek us out, often in a secluded corner and speaking in hushed tones for fear of discovery. (To date, none of our extended family has tried homeschooling.)

A fellow homeschooling mom once told me about her experience at Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. When the meal was over, her children cleared their own dishes from the table and began filling the sink for the clean-up process. Her non-homeschooling siblings accused her of bribing the children ahead of time to do this chore “just to make the rest of us look bad!” Despite insistence that this was the children’s customary routine at home, the offended relatives would not be persuaded.

If you are facing non-supportive family members at this time, the most encouragement I can offer you is my own affirmation that “time will tell.” Find out for yourself exactly what the legalities of home education are in your state, comply with them, and then stand your ground, knowing that you are doing your best to educate your children and that homeschooling will prove itself. Walk away from arguments when necessary, and walk away from potential guilt feelings at the same time. Remember the old folk adage, “the proof is in the pudding” — each individual ingredient may not be tasty by itself, but when combined in proper proportions, the result is delicious. Application to homeschooling: any one lesson or subject may not make a great difference by itself, but over time, your homeschool lessons will combine to make your students into wonderful people. You still may hear occasional grumblings from outsiders, but be assured that those are probably based in jealousy.

You and I Drive Different Cars

“What kind of car do you drive?” What kind of car do I drive? But I was asking You about why the world needs so many different churches… I don’t understand. “What kind of car do you drive?” Oh! Now I get it!

The dialogue occurred one day during a brief quiet time with God. I have been reminded of it in many situations since that time. You and I attend different churches. You and I utilize different homeschooling methods. You and I allow our children to be involved in different activities. You and I drive different cars.

Power windows, power locks, manual transmission, 4-wheel drive, power steering, leather seats, heated seats, DVD player, cup holders, luggage rack, dual gas tanks, automatic headlights. Some features may be luxuries; some features may be necessities. What may be a luxury in my life may be a necessity in your life. You and I drive different cars.

Perhaps I should feel guilty that I drive a minivan, because there are now rarely more than 3 people occupying it. But I know that the rest of the space is often used for hauling cargo: 1 or 2 guitars, my electric bass, my son’s djembe drum, my daughter’s clean laundry, and the furniture and household items as a child moves to or from college or apartment. Perhaps you have been criticized for driving a “gas-guzzling” SUV, but your critics do not stop to consider that few vehicles are equipped to carry your entire family of 10. You and I drive different cars.

Sometimes my “necessities” have shifted, depending on life’s circumstances. At one time, my children eagerly participated in “youth” events. At other times, we have avoided such groups like the plague. The deciding factors related to our family’s values: is this event family-friendly; does the sponsoring group try to usurp parental authority; do my children’s attitudes undergo a negative change when they are involved with this activity? Does this “car” have the features I really need?

Just because something is a priority for me does not mean it has to be a priority for you. As long as we are all moving forward in our chosen directions, we should not put ourselves under the unnecessary guilt of traveling at the exact same speed as others or with all the exact same baggage. You and I have both chosen to homeschool, and we both easily recognize the ways that make us different from those who do not homeschool. What is not so easily recognizable is how we are different from each other. You may not want to use all the same methods with your children that I use with my children, but that in itself does not make either of us “wrong.” It simply means that each of us can see what needs our families have, and you and I are each doing our best to meet those needs. Guilt-Free Homeschooling is achieved by recognizing that you and I drive different cars.

Any Dead Fish Can Float Downstream

I love the T-shirt that says, “Any dead fish can float downstream — Go against the flow!” It shows a simple, little Christian fish-symbol pointing in the opposite direction from a slew of ugly, decaying fish and fish skeletons that are being swept along in a stream of muck-water. That pretty much sums up my faith: I am willing to swim upstream against the strong tide of contemporary thought, because it means life to me instead of death. It is usually much easier to go along with the crowd mentality, but doing so contradicts everything that I stand for and believe in.

Homeschooling can be seen as a similar undertaking: homeschoolers often feel they are swimming upstream against all the counsel of their peers. Deciding to educate your children at home may not be an easy choice for you to make. It may prompt a very dramatic change to your family’s lifestyle. You may find yourselves surrounded by friends and relatives who think you have suddenly gone insane and feel it is their duty to remind you of that fact on a regular basis. You may choose to give up certain worldly luxuries in order to reprioritize your lives, focusing your efforts on giving your children what you believe to be the best educational option available.

If you find yourselves in such a situation of “going against the flow,” take courage. Reflect on your reasons for choosing to educate your children yourselves. Then close your ears to the negative propaganda bombarding your family, and stand firm. Know that even if you feel you are not swimming upstream, you can at least hold your ground and not be swept downstream. Staying in one place for a time assures that you are not losing ground, and enables you to build up the strength and courage to move forward eventually.

Deciding to homeschool often means deciding to do what you can to change your corner of the world. It takes a courageous person, someone with the strength to stand up for their convictions, someone unwilling to follow the rest of the lemmings, someone daring enough and bold enough to say, “I’ve had enough. Let me do it my way now.” You may encounter much resistance, many dead fish floating downstream, obstructing your way and hindering your progress. Be patient, be brave, be encouraged — you are beginning the adventure of a lifetime, one that your children’s destiny depends upon. Go against the flow — you will not regret it.

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