Considering homeschooling? Get ready for a wild ride!
I remember attending public school as a kid. Honestly, I was bored silly. Everyone had to do the same things. Everyone ate lunch at the same time, hungry or not. Everyone flopped down on their mats, closed their eyes tightly and tried to nap, sleepy or not. Everyone dabbed that glue on the popcorn and stuck it to their "sheep art thing" we all did. Everyone learned from the same lesson plans. Everyone was presented with the same material, and subsequently, everyone asked the same basic questions. Then, year after year, everyone moved on to the next "level."
When I would arrive home at night, I pretty much kept to myself. I was loaded up with enough homework to keep me occupied for hours, and my parents and siblings were not high on my "to do" list. They were not my top priority; school had to be.
Plenty of times I was so exhausted at the end of the day, yet not finished with all of my assignments, that I would convince myself to just doze 'til 5 a.m. and then drag myself out of bed to finish everything before trotting off to school to repeat the cycle. I felt like a sheep. Baaa-aaaah; better hurry, the bell's about to ring ... again.
I was not trained to be a homeschool mama. Who is? But hey, it's fun. I like having my kids with me, and they are learning! However, I must say, it's all the questions that drive me batty.
A question here, a comment there - this is fine; don't get me wrong. But imagine the never-ending question. The answer that just won't satisfy. The conversation that has no finale. One of my sons in particular has questions for me that he fires from a vocal cannon, which once loaded, can discharge for hours. When they begin to flow, my eyeballs start twitching. My hands sweat and my hair rises. Hide me.
This boy (we have three) has asked us the oddest things (and I paraphrase, below) since the day he could talk. He somehow learned to chatter early, and quite well - definitely before I was ready.
Once he spotted a spider up in the upper left corner of our hallway and set out to explain to any soul who would listen, in his 2-year-old voice (and logic), that the spider was crying. How he came to that conclusion, I'll never know. The spider wasn't making a sound!
Every time he saw any little eight-legger from that point on, he jumped up and down and exclaimed, "Pider cwying. Pider cwyyyying!" Our homeschooling adventure with him had begun!
I should have known that the wacky questions from my little fireball of energy would follow. Many of you, with your own kiddos, can relate, I'm sure. My son has an imagination that will not stop:
