Actually I am okay with that. What is worse than having a child grow up is a child who does NOT grow up. I would not wish to hold him back, to keep him under my wing, my thumb, or the rock that some people think we homeschoolers use to keep our kids hidden away. That doesn't mean I was ready for this year.
People often would ask me along the way, "Are you going to homeschool them all the way through?" Usually this would be uttered with a tone of derision, of disbelief, since what they were really saying was, "You don't think you can do high school too, do you?" I would always say that we were taking it year by year and we would see what happened. They would sigh with relief and say, "Of course, of course." The truth is, I always intended to homeschool both kids through high school because I felt called by God to, and I still do. I just didn't feel like explaining myself.
There was a day this spring when I took my son to the local community college for placement testing. He was nervous, sure he was going to bomb it and not get into credit-level classes. I was sure he would be fine. Then he got his results and was stunned to see that he had done more than fine. I was pretty sure that was going to be the result, after all, he had been my student. I was pretty sure what he was capable of. Then there was the day we sat across from the advisor and he enrolled him in two college classes, all the while talking to him and addressing him like a regular college student (my high school sophomore!) I was just the driver and I happened to be sitting in the room. I felt kind of superfluous, at least until he informed my son of the date tuition payments were due.
Sometimes I wonder how we got him to this point, the one in which he burst through the back door and said, "Mom, can I graduate next year? Because you know, bragging rights FOR LIFE!"
I know there were so many more days that I felt I had dropped the ball, sold myself short, not set effective goals, or lost my cool than there were days that I felt "successful." So I decided to look back into the thicker parts of this blog. I wanted to find some evidence that the things we have cultivated in him really did help bring him to this point, and I found this post from October 2012. You might like to go back and read the whole thing because it is all about teaching from a place of rest, but this stood out to me.
So, we accomplished a fair amount in lessons this week--science and writing and geography and grammar, etc, but what stands out to me more this week is that we made it to the pet store for some new fish. We also enjoyed a wonderful dinner with friends and a hilarious time on the new patio, enjoying a fire and roasting marshmallows. We did not strive. We worked, but we played, too. We ate all our meals at home in fellowship with each other. We prayed. We marveled at God's ways in the life of Amy Carmichael and those she touched. We pondered the uselessness of war. We butted heads, overcame challenges, tried again. It was a good week. A very good week.After reading Sarah Mackenzie's Teaching from Rest I found myself longing again for these simple times and praying earnestly for more restful, constructive teaching with the remaining time I have to teach my kids. I have to admit, it was a little easier when they were smaller and mostly did what I said and didn't have so many interests, thoughts, opinions and distractions as they do now. Perhaps what is exhausting to me at this juncture is my own attempts to
I know--a man must leave his father and mother. It's right there in Scripture. My children are not my life, they are given as a joyful calling, and when they are mature, my life will have a new calling. My life is hidden with Christ in God, not in my children, and how sad and wretched I will be if I cling to them and expect them to be more to me than they are able or are meant to be. I have one more year to be an official part of my son's education. I have four to six more years with my daughter, and I feel the weight of her entry into the world of adolescence. My prayer is that I will once again enter into the joy of restful and intentional teaching, even when I feel I have so little to give. That I will land in moments and take them in, enjoying them for the gifts that they are. That I might once again find companions along the way to share thoughts and encouragement with. That my children would find companions who sharpen and strengthen them. That we all cling to the Lord.