Pretty sure I understand why so many adorable, bright elementary-aged
homeschool kids go to public middle school when they reach adolescence.
I'd like to pass my mea culpa forward to whichever school district I'm living in a year from now.
At 8:30 AM on a Monday, my progeny lies half-awake in the full morning sun cast upon his beloved futon.
I issue the order: "Once you get up, you're going to walk the dogs."
The response: "WHY?!"
There's no real need to continue telling you how this turned out. It was neither ugly nor pretty, it just WAS, and it's neither the first time nor last time.
One thing I've got in my parenting arsenal that most other kids' parents don't: the threat of attending public school.
I know a lot of public school parents wince when they hear stories about homeschooled kids' relaxed schedules. Their own tots' life-long inability to rise and shine conjures up fears of a future filled with 20-somethings dozing in their childhood bunkbed til 2 PM. There's a certain reverence for the lifeskills training component of attending school. If we don't beat the idea (by way of schedules, not swats) of "the early bird gets the worm" into young'uns, what will become of them as adults? So we have teens who, at the pinnacle of their bodies' exhausting growth periods, are being asked to beat the sun and focus on trigonometry or literature.
I, for one, have always gloated about how I call my kid "a farmer" and have since he became mobile and started scrambling toward the catfood dishes before the sun rose over the row of houses across the street.
My boy's never had a hard time sliding out of bed at pre-dawn. That's only a good thing for a parent if the boy (a) attends school beyond your home's walls, or (b) is planning to be a farmer.
No matter what time he was convinced to head to bed the night before, no matter how much energy he expended during the previous day, my son will be awake before you. So far.
Here comes adolescence.
****
I'd like to pass my mea culpa forward to whichever school district I'm living in a year from now.
At 8:30 AM on a Monday, my progeny lies half-awake in the full morning sun cast upon his beloved futon.
I issue the order: "Once you get up, you're going to walk the dogs."
The response: "WHY?!"
There's no real need to continue telling you how this turned out. It was neither ugly nor pretty, it just WAS, and it's neither the first time nor last time.
One thing I've got in my parenting arsenal that most other kids' parents don't: the threat of attending public school.
I know a lot of public school parents wince when they hear stories about homeschooled kids' relaxed schedules. Their own tots' life-long inability to rise and shine conjures up fears of a future filled with 20-somethings dozing in their childhood bunkbed til 2 PM. There's a certain reverence for the lifeskills training component of attending school. If we don't beat the idea (by way of schedules, not swats) of "the early bird gets the worm" into young'uns, what will become of them as adults? So we have teens who, at the pinnacle of their bodies' exhausting growth periods, are being asked to beat the sun and focus on trigonometry or literature.
I, for one, have always gloated about how I call my kid "a farmer" and have since he became mobile and started scrambling toward the catfood dishes before the sun rose over the row of houses across the street.
My boy's never had a hard time sliding out of bed at pre-dawn. That's only a good thing for a parent if the boy (a) attends school beyond your home's walls, or (b) is planning to be a farmer.
No matter what time he was convinced to head to bed the night before, no matter how much energy he expended during the previous day, my son will be awake before you. So far.
Here comes adolescence.
****
And as an aside, it's stuff like this sweet old song (sung here by Patty Griffin in Gruene Hall) that keeps reminding me of how inexorably glad I am to have a child to drive me nuts.
Comments