Homeschooling has felt hectic this year. It’s not just the outside stuff, though I know that doesn’t help. Most of the crazy this year, though, is centered right here in the house. It’s the act of teaching 4th grade, 3rd grade, and kindergarten times two. I’m going to be honest— at moments, it’s enough to make me want to turn in my lifer homeschooling card.
I love homeschooling. I love the lifestyle, the ability to learn and grow together, and the time with my children. I don’t mind the messy moments of multitasking. I adore the richness, the depth, and the absolute wonder our family is able to cultivate. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything, truly.
But some moments lately are just tough. The high schooler and the preschooler aren’t an issue at all. It’s the sheer back and forth and back again of teaching phonics and borrowing in columns and alphabetizing lists and starting to spell. It’s siting at the head of the table and helping the child on my left write a cohesive paragraph, the one on my right draw hands on a clock face, the reminding the two playing the math card game that they’re to be using only odd numbers. It’s training four people to wait their turn, to not distract one another, and to apply themselves to the habit of attention. Truth? Many a day we finish our sweet morning time and I sigh, realizing that “the good part” is behind us… and all that’s left is “the hard part.”
That balance— the beauty of the morning’s hymns, the poetry, the read-alouds, the recitation against the slogging of the math lessons and the decoding of language— keeps me in the black in terms of homeschooling. My days are more joyful than not. But even were it not so, I have an advantage over newbies who wonder if this will go on and on and on without ceasing. Because I have the long view of having kids grown and flown from their homeschool careers, I can rest assured that this tiresome investment in the details will pay off down the road. In no time, we’ll be back into a season where every part of our day is something to look forward to.
Except, of course, it won’t be. I keep reminding myself of this as I coax my shoulders from down around my ears after another session of surviving the table time gauntlet. There’s always something less than perfect, and that’s o.k. We don’t continue on simply because our work brings us happiness; we do it because it is the work we were given to do by the Lord. We do it in obedience, in faith, and in love. We do it because to not do it is well, unthinkable.
I’m praying that the fog of this year will lift, and I’ll find much more to love than dread in my homeschool days. But even if it doesn’t, I’ll still be here, doing this thing. I can’t imagine ever doing anything else.