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One of the tricky parts of being an unemployed homeschooler is that there isn’t any objective feedback. Unlike my 9-5 job I had in the past, I don’t get a yearly review. Unlike my previous jobs, I have no supervisor grateful for my hard work. There is no recognition. Only laundry. Lots and lots of laundry. I miss performance reviews. The little pat on the back and raise every year soothed my people-pleasing soul. As a human, all I want is for someone outside to tell me that I’m worth something, after all.
Yesterday, I got a homeschool review. Publicly. Turns out maybe I don’t want any reviews.
Elle had surgery last week, and she got her stitches (well, some of them) out yesterday. (Yes, yes, for all those of you keeping track. That means we had a birth, broken bone, an additional hospitalization, and new Mateo specialist appointments in addition to Cee’s normal medical rigmarole this year. We’ll just add “surgery” to that list and keep workin’ the deductible like a boss.)
The nurse was making small talk and asked Elle when school was going to start. There was awkward silence as Elle shrugged, because neither Elle nor I know that information. We’ll have to see how August plays out. The nurse asked what grade she’d be going into. Third. That answer was easy. Then came the truth bomb.
Do you like school?
There it was. My opportunity for (maybe not-so) objective feedback. Usually when strangers find out we homeschool, they turn to the kids and ask if they like their teacher. We all roll our eyes and laugh because we know it’s a joke. But this. This wasn’t a joke.
Well, maybe it was a joke based on the guttural noise that Elle made in response to the question.
Do you like school?
Maybe “guttural” isn’t the right descriptor. Is that the word you’d use to describe a half-growl, half-retch, half-groan sort of sound? Yes? No? Welp. That’s the sound she made before emphatically declaring,
“No!”
I guess there’s no raise this year, people. No raise this year.
The nurse sort of laughed. I imagine it’s not uncommon for kids to declare their distaste for school. I felt oddly calm afterwards, and not embarrassed or angry. That was surprising. Maybe it was because the nurse didn’t know that we homeschool. I think it was mostly because Elle felt comfortable enough to share her real feelings.
Then I did some thinking.
What we call “school” in our house is actually workbooks that take up approximately 30 minutes of the day. Maybe an hour for Cee since she’s older. In a day the kids might dress up and put on a play, fix their beloved plus plusses, watch a Mystery Doug episode, free draw in one of the bajillion notebooks I picked up for 19 cents at the beginning of the year, and read a bunch of books. But they don’t consider that “school.” “School” is the agonizing 30 minutes of math, language, and spelling that we do every day-ish.
On the way home from the appointment, I explained to the kids that I had made a mistake. That got everyone’s attention.
Then I told them that David and I consider allllllll that they do in a day to be “school.” Sure, we need to make sure that we figure out multiplication, but it’s important to run around outside and get lost in books as well. I explained how those workbooks are a tiny part of our day.
Elle did some thinking. “Well, maybe I do like some parts of school.”
I told her that that was fair. She doesn’t need to like phonics. (Phonics was her mortal enemy this year.) But it is one piece of her overall education.
That night after dinner, I put on an audiobook while the kids played plus plusses, drew, or fixed puzzles at the table. Elle looked up with a twinkle in her eye.
“Hey!!! You mean we’re doing school right now?” She was currently drawing a poster with pictures of all the characters in our audiobook. (Her idea, not mine.)
“Yeah. I guess so,” I was unconcerned.
“You mean we’re doing school during summer vacation?!?!” she said in mock horror.
“Honey, your life is summer vacation,” I replied.
She didn’t have a response. To a certain extent, their lives really are summer vacation. We do have to make some progress in our workbooks, but they are learning a lot from just living as well.
Case in point:
I keep my eyes open on the blogs that I follow for good quality interesting tidbits. That happen to be educational. Then I show my kids.
This video currently has 27 million views. My family is responsible for a good 2.5 million of those views. The kids are obsessed with it For a week straight they asked to watch it before bed. Twice. Three times. And I just smiled and hit the replay button, as if I was deigning to give them cotton candy. Suuuuure you can have more.
And now– Cee and Elle can sing the whole song without help.
Ha ha ha, the joke is on them. I just tricked them into learning all the states and capitals. And they wouldn’t even call this “school.” This is just what they want to do before bed for fun.
This morning they figured out they could lay our USA map on the table and sing the song while laying a plus plus on each state as it was named. (Their idea, not mine.)
When people ask if we do school year round, I never know what to say. Yesterday we didn’t crack a single workbook, but we did a hundred other vaguely educational things. Is that school? Or is that just living?
Maybe that’s the beauty of homeschool. Moe just came up to me with a couple pieces of construction paper stapled together (the seven staples are proof he did it all himself).
He asked if I’d write the story he dictates to me.
I’ve said before that I don’t expect my kids to be super-geniuses. That’s not why we homeschool. But I do expect that my kids will go out into the world with hearts for learning. Even if technically they hate school. I guess my ego can take the hit.