Many of my friends are teachers (for real). They have real classrooms, don't get paid enough, and have way more students than they should. They have standards to achieve and powers to whom they answer. They do it with pride. They do it with joy. Sometimes they do it with tears.
In some ways more than others, homeschoolers are no different. I usually start petitioning for funding in May. I present to the "board"(my husband) the strengths and weaknesses of curricula compared to the needs of my students. I plan, I purchase, I plan some more. Sometimes with joy, sometimes with tears.
This is our fifth year of homeschool. This is my first year homeschooling in America. There are co-ops, field trips, classes, and everything I could possibly imagine. Some things seem necessary. Some things seem counter-productive.
Right after Labor Day, on social media, lots of people posted pics of their kids' first day of school. Truth be told, we started school on a rainy day early August. I won't lie. I feel a little bit left out. Nothing is stopping me from posting these, but it's not the same. Just as everyone begins their yearly routine, we drop everything and go on vacation. Every September.
The night before we begin school, I lay awake obsessing over whether I chose the right books, whether Number 3 will ever master cursive, whether Number 1 will be challenged in Math. I think about what we'll eat for lunch and how much time we won't have to waste on learning each others' names. I lay awake perfectly certain about choosing homeschool and alternately terrified.
Sometimes I need to be grounded from perusing catalogs or looking through science books. Sometimes I need to be told to walk away from the work. Sometimes I need to skip grammar. No, that's not true. We never skip grammar. Maybe math.
All this to say that teachers are the best. Those who work in schools, those who volunteer, and those who teach their own kids. I'd like to raise my glass to toast teachers. To all my teacher-friends out there, you are the best! And that's for real.
With my "class" in St. Ignace, Michigan just before heading to Mackinac Island. September 12, 2014
