Got Homeschool?

"So you homeschool?"

I get that a lot.  When I'm at the store at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday in January with six chattering little savages in tow, I guess it's pretty obvious.  It's definitely an ice-breaker.  Most people are politely interested for the brief window of time that we interact.  Others are genuinely interested, either because they're curious how I manage without a daily Valium or because they are also homeschooling (or interested in homeschooling) their own minions and want to compare notes.  Some are openly incredulous and question my sanity.  A few, usually devout teachers or die-hard economic redistributionists, are very direct with their disapproval.  The few forthright nay-sayers are usually easily ignored since I have other crap to do, like catching my three year old before she actually opens the bag of chips.

However, thanks to the current news cycle, more people are questioning homeschooling.  Some people are even asking whether it should even be allowed, since it's obviously a huge opportunity for knuckle-dragging, religious nutjob sociopaths with awful haircuts to abuse their children.  A couple of the more rational, thoughtful Internet philosophers have even posed the idea that, no matter the parents' intentions, that homeschool is always bordering on abuse if not dancing right across the line.

Clearly, I disagree.  In this meme-driven world of ours opinions are often distilled into a single, uncomplicated photo with a pithy one-liner.  There's no nuance, no discussion, just assumption.  So here goes nothing.

What Society Thinks It Is

No, I'm not brainwashing my kids.  We're not members of some cult.  We can cut our hair, wear pants, and sleep inside during our periods.  We even--gasp--learn about evolution and believe the world is more than 7,000 years old.  Shockingly, these ideas don't conflict with prayer and daily scripture study (and, being LDS, we have two or three times the average number of scriptures to find conflict in).

What about socialization?  Well, I don't know about you, but I'm teaching all my kids to be afraid of sunlight and other people because I want all six of them living with me until I die.  Gah.  Say it with me--you socialize dogs, you educate children.  With one notable exception, I'm pretty confident my children will neither bark, bite you, or pee themselves if you get too close.

In all seriousness, my kids--and the bulk of their peers--are just fine.  Between soccer, tae kwon do, painting, a Harry Potter book club, playgroup, church activities, and friends (yes, they have them), their week is pretty darn full.  In their down time, they have each other, which is a whole class in interpersonal conflict theory and resolution.

But all homeschoolers are weird, right?  I can't deny my kids say some weird things.  In fact, you could probably call them weird.  They like D&D, Japanime, and Marvel Universe song parodies.  They squeak and curl up on the floor like dead cockroaches when they're caught doing something they shouldn't.  If you sing something down the hall they will respond in chorus like a pack of coyotes.  Just the other day one of my kids sailed down the stairs in black thermals, an orange scarf/skirt, and a pair of sunglasses, carrying a bat with yellow and red material tied around the end, and informed me that she was the Egyptian goddess of death, flame, and cartoons.  They're definitely weird.

And they're awesome.

What Teachers Think It Is

The joke is that homeschoolers do nothing all day.  We all laze around in pajamas, watching tv, playing video games, alternating between lethargic, unwashed puddles on the couch and psychotic little brats wired up on sugar running around the house.  The assumption is that I homeschool because I'm lazy, and just can't be bothered to get out of bed or effectively parent my children.

Uh huh.

First off, we are often in pajamas until lunch.  Don't be jelly.  We also spend plenty of time in real clothes. 

There is also more television than I like, but it's often documentaries or somehow relevant to whatever we're studying.  We don't have any kind of gaming console, and the computer games are often subtly and secretly educational (shh!).  As for the absurdity of homeschooling because I'm lazy...yes, six kids at home is definitely conducive to eating bonbons and binging on Netflix in peace.

I've also been questioned by some educators why I think I'm capable of educating my kids.  This always amuses me because, hello, 13 years of public education (not to mention a college degree, though not in education) and I'm not capable of teaching addition and noun identification?  What does that say about the capability of my teachers?  In all fairness, I've had some amazing teachers, particularly in high school.  I loved learning from them.  I've also had some not so amazing teachers.  I succeeded in spite of them.

Also, the internet is freaking amazing.  You can learn almost anything.

What Other Kids Think It Is

Well, some public school kids think it sounds amazing.  Other kids think it sounds like a nightmare.  Fair enough.  Sometimes I'm torn, myself.

What My Kids Think It Is

In a word, I'm a slave-driver. Sometimes I'm a benevolent slave-driver, but if you ask them, I'm always waiting in the wings with a workbook and one more problem or chore for them to do.  The terrible injustice of doing two whole hours of school work AND having to clean your room, am I right?  There are golden days when we venture out on a field trip, have a themed activity day, or everyone shockingly enjoys doing their school work.  Those days are awesome.  More commonly, the day is spent in conversations like this:

"Yes, you have to do your writing, too.  No, not just your handwriting.  Yes, it is too fair.  No, it doesn't count that you did it yesterday.  Why?  Because you have to do it again.  Hey, you, where do you think you're going?  I know you're not done.  Take that off your head.  As for you, little miss, I already told you that you had to do your writing.  Just write the story.  Sure, it can be about a giraffe pirate.  Make sure you capitalize names of people and places and the beginning of sentences. And don't rush, because when you rush you write like a serial killer."

I get exhausted just remembering it.  Man, this homeschooling thing is eating into my Netflix time.  Maybe I should just send them to school...

What I Think It Is

Sometimes, I'm sure I'm raising the next generation of scientists, world leaders, moms, and all around good citizens.  Other times, I'm pretty confident I'm failing them in every possible way.  Then when a concept just clicks, when I hear my five year old use "ambiguous" correctly or they casually discuss friction when it comes to snowy roads, when they are kind to a new kid at the park and indignant over some injustice in the world, I'm positive they're going to be okay.  These reassuring victorious moments are counter-balanced by the times it takes a half an hour to understand why they should wear socks with their boots.

What It Really Is

I'm usually pretty good with words, but I can't begin to adequately express the fun and frustration, the freedom and joy, the purpose and meaning I find in homeschooling.  I cannot imagine doing things any other way.  

(For now.  Ask me again when I finally get them to bed.)

My Brother's Keeper

I've been kind of depressed with humanity in general for a while, and then this weekend I saw something wonderful.  A pair of trucks collided on the icy highway just outside of post.  Nobody died, but the front of one truck was completely crumpled, windshield shattered, its driver seriously injured.  Empty water jugs and a cooler were scattered across the intersection.  The cops wouldn't arrive for another 15 minutes.

I'm sure some of you are thinking, "What the heck is wrong with you, weirdo?  There is nothing wonderful about that. And a picture is just classless."  And you're right on all counts.  I debated over sharing the picture.  More importantly, the wreck wasn't wonderful.  What happened afterward was.

Literally the entire four way intersection stopped.  People put on their hazards and cleaned up the jugs and debris.  The police were called.  Multiple others gathered around the smashed truck, taking turns holding pressure on the driver's head wound until the ambulance arrived; in the well-below-0 temperatures, several jackets were offered to keep the injured person warm, including one man who was bare-chested, having used his shirt to staunch the blood. The other driver, who was in shock from the accident, was kept company and reassured. Without any specific coordination, single lane traffic started carefully making its way around the accident.  By the time the police arrived, there was little left to do except get the driver into the ambulance and tow away the truck.

It was amazing.  Even now, days later, I get a little verklempt remembering it.  People didn't need to be told, or wait until they were given permission to help--they just did.  They saw a need and did something about it.  This attitude isn't unique to Alaska, certainly, but it is stronger up here than anywhere I've ever lived.  Maybe it's a sense of duty, maybe it's because Alaska is actively trying to kill all of us.  I don't know.  But I respect the heck out of it.

Seen the roads lately?

I was driving home the other day and realized that the roads have looked like this since November.

Yes, this is a road.

And so is this.

And this.

Parking lots are a glorious free-for-all, lanes are by common consent, and I've been steering between trees instead of lines.  Speedbumps have enough snow packed onto them that they're barely distinguishable from the road. I'm actually kind of sad that I'll have to stop driving on the sidewalks when the ice melts enough to see them again.

Not a local pic, but the sentiment applies.

It's been interesting watching the weather this past month.  While a couple weeks of wacky cold weather paralyzed the lower 48--schools closed, cities issued electric usage guidelines to prevent blackouts, and iguanas fell out of trees onto unsuspecting passersby--we had an entirely different problem.

It was too warm.

Fairbanks sat at a positively balmy 29 degrees for days.  Kids made snowmen, people wandered outside in t-shirts.  Schools and businesses were on delayed schedules and the city downgraded road conditions to Black as the temperatures rose to near freezing.  It might seem bizarre to be worried about the roads melting while everyone down south worries about them icing, but we've been driving on snowpack and ice for months.  When it's cold, the roads are pretty dry and easy to drive--you just take it a little slower, give yourself more space.  Unlike most other Americans, Alaskans actually know how to drive on winter roads.  Once the temperature starts rising, though, that top layer of snow starts melting--and that's when things get a little iffy.

Another unforeseen consequence of our warm spell was the snow.  It's usually pretty dry and light, more like powdered glitter.  It's really easy to shovel.  When it's warm, though, that fluffy, delightful snow is replaced by snow with the consistency of wet cement.  I tromped out in my boots and every step broke through a crust of ice.  The snow was so heavy it bent trees...

...and we had 10 inches of the horrible stuff fall over a couple of days.  Luckily this was just a temporary spike and the temps fell again to sub-zero temperatures.  I'm glad, because this wet snow crap is for the semi-frozen birds.

Ravens aren't so majestic when they're fluffed out trying not to die.

We're still in the doldrums between Christmas and February, when everything starts kicking off again. The Yukon Quest, one of the most grueling of all dog races, will start on the 3rd.  The local Shakespeare company is hosting a Bard-a-Thon, where they will read all of Will's works over the course of a week, and anybody can pop in and read.  Also of interest is the upcoming ice festival, which is similar to the one we went to before Christmas but much, much bigger.

Even though it's a seasonably appropriate -15 now, the world is turning.  It will be summer before we know it, and in this land of extremes you can feel it in your blood.  The days are brighter, longer.  The kids are counting the days until they no longer have to actively dress against freezing to death.

They've got a little ways to go.