Lately, there’s been a lot of chatter about the pitfalls of public education, and I find myself surrounded by friends who are committed to home-schooling. Meanwhile, as I sip my Diet Coke and enjoy the rare moment of peace with my kids at school, I can’t help but feel a little inadequate.
This morning, my husband, Mark, worked the night shift, so it was all on me to get the kids ready for school. Here’s a glimpse of my morning: “Emma, put your shoes on. Emma, please comb your hair. Wait—did you just wipe your nose and then tuck your hair behind your ear? You’re ten; why am I still putting your shoes on? Noah, eat your toast. No, you can’t have three bananas for a snack today—because you didn’t finish the one I packed yesterday, and that might lead to some unfortunate consequences. Now, go fetch your library books. Where are they? They should be right where I told you to leave them last night, beside your bed, next to the fish tank. They’re gone? How is your fish still alive after all this?”
A quick glance at the clock leads to some whispered frustrations, and before I know it, I’m transforming from the frazzled mom to a drill sergeant.
As I pull out of the driveway, I notice a large cup of water from McDonald’s precariously balanced on the roof of the car. My neighbor waves at me, clearly signaling that something has fallen off my vehicle, and I just pretend I don’t see him, speeding away down the street.
Upon reaching the carpool line, we get stuck in the back. I switch back to my authoritative tone, shouting, “KIDS! GET OUT OF THE CAR! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” Noah struggles with the door, which seems to have a mind of its own. The rules of the carpool line dictate that I can’t get out to help, so I plead with Emma to assist him. (I realize I might be making a case for home-schooling here.)
Noah starts to cry, and finally, Emma manages to help him out. “MOM! I HAAAAAAATE THIS VAN DOOR!” I speed through the carpool lane, annoyed with the chaos around me. Just then, I spot one of my favorite teachers, who, while waving, looks like she’s silently vowing never to end up like me, her smile a mix of sympathy and pity.
When I finally return home, I change gears and deal with little Mia, who is three and a half and currently in a rather messy situation with her diaper.
My sister-in-law, who is the epitome of organization and charm, home-schools her children, and everything about her life feels like it’s straight out of a magazine. Her home is immaculate, and she hosts gatherings regularly without a hair out of place—an added blow to my self-esteem.
For so long, I berated myself for not choosing the home-schooling path, but I’ve come to realize it’s simply not the right fit for us at this moment. Plus, I just learned from a friend that “a lot” is actually two words. Would you trust me with your kids?
Though I hold a four-year teaching degree from a small university in Iowa, which covered everything from painting projects to psychoanalyzing Judy Blume characters, I entered this profession because I cared about kids and wanted to be around them.
I teach my children valuable lessons every day—how to load the dishwasher, why conditioner isn’t a substitute for shampoo, and the importance of hygiene when making friends. I impart life lessons that may not include math equations or spelling tests, but they are just as crucial.
Life skills are key, and I’m done feeling guilty about not pursuing something that clearly isn’t for me right now. For the moment, I’ll leave formal education to the teachers, as I focus on mastering the art of getting my kids to school.
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Summary
In short, while home-schooling is a popular topic of discussion, it’s not the right choice for my family at this time. My focus remains on teaching life skills rather than traditional academics, and I embrace the chaos of getting my kids to school every day.
Keyphrase: Why I’m Not Home-Schooling My Kids
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