Love is perhaps the strongest of human emotions. It transcends barriers of language and culture, leaps through time and space, affects everyone from the youngest and most helpless babies to the oldest and most careworn cynics. Love is magical and mysterious and all-powerful; it has the power to transform lives.
We homeschool our children because we love them. Can anything be more basic? We love our children and we want to be with them, to share our interests with them and to learn about new things together, to cuddle them and kiss them and play games and teach them about the world, and that doesn’t arbitrarily end when they reach the state-decreed age of compulsory attendance.
Madison Avenue copywriters have created award-winning commercials capitalizing on the familiar scene of a teary-eyed toddler being urged aboard a big yellow bus by his obviously loving and equally teary-eyed mother. It’s become a seasonal rite of passage, accepted as the norm, encouraged without regard to how this wrenching separation at a tender age might actually affect a young child – or his mother.
Popular wisdom would have us believe that parting children and parents at a young age is normal, natural, and beneficial to both, giving the parent freedom to pursue personal goals and allowing the child to somehow develop independence and autonomy. Parents who keep their children at home are indicted as overprotective, unwilling to loosen the apron strings, selfishly damaging their child’s ability to reach his true potential.
Experts who’ve made a profession of child development and education relentlessly warn us that parents need to break the ties that bind, that children need socialization through the company of their peers, that trained teachers are necessary to develop a child’s skills in the proper order. Do these experts base their claims on living with young children for years and observing what they need first hand? Of course not. Their mandates are based on questionable research findings and unquestioned allegiance to their alma maters and the educational bureaucracy. It becomes a self-perpetuating cycle: Encourage parents to send their children to school so they can become experts with credentials and eventually author research which will encourage other parents to send their children to school. A neatly closed circle ensuring the continuation of the bureaucracy; the children merely cogs in the wheel.
Most people don’t think very much about how this system works to perpetuate itself. They’re too busy working and earning a living, so having their kids in school makes sense and is incredibly convenient. To question the educational system from which they themselves graduated would be somehow akin to questioning their own self-worth and the choices which got them to where they are in life. It often takes some kind of crisis, such as a child diagnosed with a learning disorder or just not getting along well in school before a parent takes to questioning the way things supposedly work.
Love seems like the best of all reasons for homeschooling. Not the only reason, of course – there are as many different reasons as there are children to be homeschooled – but the love a parent feels for his children ensures a desire to keep those children from harm’s way, to protect and defend them from any perceived dangers, whether physical, emotional, or bureaucratic. The experts might not understand it, and might in fact even disagree, but parents have the right – indeed, they have the responsibility – to intervene when their children need help, protection, or assistance in finding another way.
Thousands of parents have started down the path toward homeschooling by doing nothing more than acting on their love for their children. Mark has often said all you need to homeschool successfully is love and a library card, and the library card is optional. Listen to your heart and trust yourself, and trust your children.
When my children were small I remember sometimes sitting and just watching them be children, playing or scuffling or reading or sleeping, and my heart would just ache to see how quickly they were growing up, mastering the mechanics of life, racing through childhood to take their own place as parents. I watch our sons now with their own young children and I see that same light of love, that bittersweet knowledge that the days of childhood are so special, so altogether fleeting and short.
Babies grow so quickly into toddlers, and toddlers grow into young children, who will be stretching into teenagers before you know it. The hours and days and years we’re given to spend with them are so few, so very small a piece of one’s lifetime. And yet schooling easily consumes the bulk of childhood: Five to six hours per day or more, five days a week, for three-quarters of each year, for twelve long years. So much of a child’s time; so much of a parent’s rightful joy.
My daughter Jody, 23, told me this evening that the best thing about having been homeschooled was simply the time it gave her to think about her life and what she wanted to do with it. She’s told me many times that being free of schoolish demands and expectations has given her a unique perspective, a way of looking at what is and seeing what can be that her many schooled friends just don’t seem to have.
I wonder about that sometimes, as I wonder about award-winning teacher John Taylor Gatto’s well-known claim that schools are designed to purposefully “dumb us down” to ensure a tractable workforce and thereby better grease the wheels of commerce. On the bald face of it this seems like an outrage – and John says it is, indeed. But apparently not enough parents consider it enough of an outrage to keep their children out of the schools. For many, this “dumbing down” probably makes as much sense as sending a five-year-old off on a school bus, or filling the hours of a child’s day with busywork and lessons, or demanding that a child leave his home and family and simply accept it as just the way things have always been done.
For me, for my children, and for thousands of homeschooling families, that’s no longer a valid reason.
© 2003 Helen Hegener, Home Education Magazine
Tags: Helen Hegener, Home Education Magazine, homeschooling, homeschooling families, John Taylor Gatto, reasons to homeschool, Unschooling
Homeschooling. The word brings to mind images of colorful books piled on a table, a well-used collection of pencils and paper and scissors and glue, the waxy-sweet smell of a freshly-opened box of crayons, an assortment of kitchen-science ingredients in boxes and bottles of different shapes and sizes. Fall days collecting leaves, spring mornings examining pond life, long lazy summer days at the beach learning about everything – and nothing at all. Homeschooling is a warm and cozy word, evoking images of parent and child engaged in sharing, exploring, learning about life.
Homeschooling is not often associated with prescription drugs and hypodermic needles. We don’t often equate it with learning medical terminology and care-giving procedures, or learning how to administer life-saving techniques or determining when to call 911. We don’t often think of hospital visits or figuring out the intricacies of insurance paperwork as educational. But if homeschooling is about learning what we need to know to get along in life, then the lessons awaiting us at the other end of the spectrum, when our parents grow old and we who were once children become learners all over again, are as important as those we teach and learn at the beginning.
Somehow, somewhere in the development of our present-day social structure, it was decided that separating and specializing the stages and phases of life would be beneficial. And to a certain extent, I suppose it is. Young children often have a kind of energy and sheer unbridled enthusiasm that would tax the patience of an elderly person, and the mellow interests of an octogenarian would scarcely keep a toddler entertained for long. There are obvious 
benefits to having particular spaces and special times for each, and yet so much is lost in the process of keeping them separate, distinct, apart. As homeschooling families have relearned how to live with various ages of development, and so too have many of us relearned how to live with various stages of ability and disability.
A message board member described her mother’s passing away: “Even while we were getting her things ready for the funeral home I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t true, there’s been some kind of mistake, because it wasn’t long enough ago that she and I were snuggled on the couch reading Each Peach Pear Plum and Where the Wild Things Are. And now I feel like a wild thing myself, and I want to stomp off to my room and have an imaginary adventure and when I get back I want to find a nice warm plate of something she’s fixed just for me. I want to be a little kid again, and I want her to be my mom again.”
It’s harder when we come up against the realization that there are indeed limits, that there are plans which won’t be achieved, dreams which won’t be fulfilled. We learn to deal with disappointment, frustration, heartache and heartbreak. And yet what we’re really seeing, what we’re becoming a part of, is just the full circle of life. This is how it’s meant to be. If we can hold onto perspective, if we can accept the bad as just part of the larger good, these difficult lessons can do for us what the less complex lessons in reading and writing can do for our children: make us stronger, wiser, more capable, and more prepared for whatever lies ahead.
Every so often someone will ask Mark and I when we’re going to write our book on homeschooling, as though it were a given and the only question is a matter of when. When one works with the written word for a living, as we have for 20 years, and being so deeply involved with a movement as vibrant and exceptional as homeschooling, it naturally follows that we would eventually put our experiences between the covers of a book. Seeing the reasonableness of this assumption, we’ve usually answered the question with a vague “Oh, we dunno, maybe someday…”
Ann Lahrson-Fisher is a homeschooling mother turned book author who recognizes the stark realities of being an author. In response to my recent questions on this she wrote: “With my latest book, Fundamentals of Homeschooling: Notes on Successful Family Living, almost ready to greet the world, I get to enjoy one of my favorite things about writing: having written. The fun of having written balances the love/hate relationship I have with the early stages of my writing process when I know what I want to say, but I don’t know how to get there. Those are hard times for me and my poor family and friends; I quit almost daily, I whine and complain. In time, I push deeper and deeper into the problem until my point reveals itself.”
Jean Reed, author of the landmark Home School Source Book, shared the satisfaction she and her late husband Donn found in being authors: “Writing, revising, and updating The Home School Source Book is our way of sharing a lifestyle that has been immensely rewarding for us. The most rewarding things about writing about homeschooling is seeing someone’s face light up with the understanding that they really can do this.”
David Albert, author of And the Skylark Sings with Me, cautions in his new book: “Don’t take anything I write for granted. Test it against the light of your own experience, experimentally. We are all big kids here, and we’ve earned the right by shouldering the responsibility.”
David’s words are echoed by another well-known homeschooling writer, Mary Griffith, author of The Homeschooling Handbook and The Unschooling Handbook. Mary wrote to me about her experiences as an author: “What startled me most–and still does–is the extent to which some people began to view me as some sort of reliable authority. I’d expected that from the general press, but not so much from homeschooling parents. Here I was writing books that essentially said (I thought) that we all get to figure out for ourselves what works best with our own families, and that that’s half the fun of the whole process, and still I get questions like, ‘How many math problems should I make my daughter do?’ and ‘Which TV programs should I forbid my son from watching?’ Maybe it’s just that having written books means that I’m always supposed to be sure about what we’re doing homeschooling, that Famous Homeschool Authors (that’s my daughter Kate’s official terminology for my author persona) never suffer doubts or 
Linda Dobson, author and editor of almost a dozen homeschooling books, recognized this trend toward wanting answers from experts and professionals, and she writes about her acclaimed Homeschooling Book of Answers: “I think I was very lucky that one of my first books was to be called a ‘book of answers.’ I was invited to write it myself, but with a title like that? As a homeschool insider, I knew I didn’t have all the answers! It seemed only right to get answers from others who also realized they didn’t personally have all the answers, either, just their own experiences to share to hopefully help families new to homeschooling. I worked hard to keep the word the publisher naturally wanted to use (‘experts’) out of the title. It was important that readers view these folks as simply other homeschooling families who experimented and found something that worked, rather than folks who were giving ‘the final word’ on how others should go about the act.”
This – and Linda’s insight – makes sense to me, and it’s what we try to do in every issue of Home Education Magazine. We try to “short-circuit the learning process,” as we bring our readers articles from “other homeschooling families who experimented and found something that worked.”
Not long ago I received an email letter from a mother expressing doubts about her ability to homeschool her children. That in itself is nothing unusual, but the letter had a slightly different quality about it; I’d like to share a paragraph with you:
what the Magna Carta was, or who wrote Moby Dick, or how to multiply fractions? As you can see I have some grave doubts about my ability to be a good teacher, especially because even with two years of college under my belt I still don’t know what the Magna Carta was, I never read Moby Dick and have no desire to, and multiplying fractions is still a terrible mystery to me. I seem to be getting along just fine in life without these particular bits of knowledge, but who knows if my life might have been different, somehow richer, if I’d learned those things? How can I not want the very best for my children, and how can I not worry about the potential for doing them educational harm by taking them from school?”
This letter struck a chord with me because I clearly remember worrying about the same concerns, and, truth be told, I still do. When one of my adult kids asks me how to spell a word I wonder, ever so briefly, if we shouldn’t have done a little more in the language arts department. When I watch my youngest son sounding out words to himself I have to resist the urge to ask him if he wants me to help him with reading skills; he’s told me many times that he doesn’t need any help. With over twenty years of unschooling under my belt I still worry about their learning, so I can easily understand this young mother’s concerns.
“I’m currently having fears about how his ‘education’ will be perceived by others. This is totally about how it looks from the outside — something I normally try to not let be a decisive factor. If someone should talk to my son, they’d find that he still counts on his fingers to add and subtract, and gets a blank look on his face when the subject of multiplication comes up, has never “studied” history or grammar. Inside, I’m confident about what he knows and how he’s learning, but when I think about how it looks to other people… I get nervous. Anyone else ever experience that?”
I had doubts about this approach until my children grew up and went off to work at various jobs where math was a necessary skill. They all did just fine, and rose to positions of responsibility, even in fields in which traditional math was of primary importance. Either their freestyle math served them well or when they needed to learn a more traditional approach to math they simply did so.
For example, the young mother who wrote to me asked “How can I not want the very best for my children, and how can I not worry about the potential for doing them educational harm by taking them from school?” Her perspective is obviously that school offers a safe educational experience, and that not sending her children to school might somehow be educationally harmful to them, a concept clearly supported by the education bureaucracy, political leaders, big business and the neighbors down the street.
My perspective, on the other hand, would be to view school as the potentially harmful situation and removing children from it’s influences – not just the school building but the schoolish approaches and attitudes toward learning – as the safest approach to their education.
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