Nope. Not ready.
“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
I'm always surprised living here in the Midwest at all the children returning to school in the middle of August. Back on the West Coast, we didn't start until after Labor Day. The kids and I are still clinging to summer with our fingernails—this year particularly so, since the heat has kept us from our beloved river days.
So I'm digging in my heels, refusing to start homeschooling until after Labor Day in hopes the weather turns cooler and we can spend more time outside. Besides, I'm not ready. I haven't looked at books, let alone curriculum. Though those back-to-school sales call my name... and the kids think they need something new too.
This year marks my oldest grandchild's first year of homeschooling. I watch my daughter with wonder—she gets to start brand new. No mistakes trailing behind her. No dread. No feelings of failure. Here I am, about to begin my 23rd year with only four children left, wishing I could be that fresh-faced homeschooling mom again—but knowing everything I know now.
For the last couple of years, I've lacked motivation. I see my failures so clearly. And I think of my daughter, bright with excitement about her own journey, and I just shake my head.
Like Giving Birth for the First Time
First-time homeschooling mothers remind me of women approaching their first birth. Some research everything, gather all the supplies, craft detailed plans. Others feel intimidated by the process, choosing to trust their provider—whether medical team or boxed curriculum—and just go with the flow.
Yet pain hits them both.
Things intensify, and there comes that moment when every woman says, "I quit! I can't do this anymore!" No matter how prepared or unprepared, the reality of labor feels nothing like what they imagined. The intensity defies description, no matter how many times they heard "it's hard" or how thoroughly they studied.
Why didn't anyone tell me about this? I wish I had more support. Why isn't this like I thought it would be?
(I hope I'm not being a Debbie Downer here. Is it worth it? Holy heck, yes. Some women sail through labor and birth—and homeschooling—beautifully. Others carry trauma from both experiences.)
What We Need: Nurture and Protection
So what advice can I give my daughter?
I wish we lived in a culture that valued the postpartum time—that full first year—as much as we need to value the first years of a homeschooling mother. Protecting and nurturing both mother and baby. Mother and children. We as a Christian community can do so much better for families.
Keep the big goal in mind. We're raising children to become adults who know, serve, and love the Lord. In birth, this happens when Mom releases herself into the process of labor. Same with homeschooling—the process does work when we trust it.
Remember that learning happens beyond textbooks. Don't be afraid to leave more space for real life than feels comfortable. A pregnant woman can only absorb so much head knowledge—she births with her body, not her brain. You can only impart so much information to a child. Sometimes they need whole-body experiences.
Don't get caught up in the curriculum monster whispering "YOU NEED ME!" (The birth analogy here might be the medical system telling you the same lie—you actually don't need them as much as they claim.)
Simplify yourself. Mom guilt is crushing. So few new mothers have adequate support—no postpartum doula, no mother's helper. We second-guess everything. Our children make us feel like failures. (More on that reality in another post.)
The Good Things
I have seven children who've graduated high school now, and they're wonderful young adults. There have been major bumps and minor bumps along the way. My friend's wise mother used to say, "Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems."
How do we change this culture that fails to protect and nurture mothers? I don't know completely. But we try to plant seeds for our daughters' futures.
Have you felt nurtured and protected—not just in homeschooling, but in motherhood itself? What does that look like to you? What are your dreams?
I'm hoping to write more about homeschooling as I think about my daughters and the future I hope they have—one where they're surrounded by community that understands this sacred, difficult, beautiful work we do.
