An unusual defense… for me, anyway.
I have proudly and confidently defended our choice to homeschool for nine years. I love just about everything about homeschool. The flexibility, the freedom, the relational strengths, the trust, the scheduling freedom, the extracurricular freedom, etc. etc. etc.
But I’ve never been anti public school.
How can I be? I know and love teachers. I know and love students. And the majority of my country believes in and support the public school system. You know… the PEOPLE in my country. My neighbors and friends.
Sure, I prefer homeschool and I love that I have the freedom to pursue it.
A friend of mine just spent months defending her choice to begin homeschooling. Goodness…. so many naysayers! And here I am today… about to defend our family’s probable choice to send most of our kids to public school next year. Reminds me of feeding babies: Somebody will say you’re doing it wrong no matter what you do. I just can’t win that game, so I’m not playing it.
Support each other. Believe in each other.
“If you love homeschool so much, why are you sending kids to public school next year?”
Short Answer: Because I need help.
Long Answer: My health has been in continual decline and we’ve exhausted every other avenue for help reducing our stress load. Even though I am experiencing a sort of grief at even the thought of an era ending… I am sagging with relief. Maybe this will help. Maybe this will be successful. Maybe we’ll be matched up with amazing, skillful, invested teachers who can pour some new life into our family.
Somebody I love said that they couldn’t celebrate with me, because they don’t like what public school stands for.
Right now, it’s standing for hope. Celebrate that. Either that, or come help five days a week.
I believe in community support. Organized community support. Government sponsored community support. It’s me. I’m the community. I’m a voter. I voted for this. And I hope that this will be a boon to our family and not a battle. Cuz friends… I haven’t got battle left in me. I get up when I fall, but I’m not swinging punches any more. Call me a hugger. Let’s lean on each other and hug instead.