I can’t even count how many times I’ve been asked why I homeschool. The question is asked in a variety of ways, sometimes in a tone of awe and amazement, but more often in the tone one would use to ask, “What is that green stuff growing in your refrigerator?” I have quite a long list of reasons, ranging from differences in beliefs to the simple statement that I’m doing what I feel is best, and stop looking in my refrigerator! Brought down to nuts and bolts, however, is the following answer.
As the mother to these beautiful children, I have a quality no one else has, and that is the ability to see into their hearts and to know what they need. Because they are flesh of my flesh, I understand them, and that is a priceless asset in my quest to educate them.
Take, for instance, my oldest. She’s a ten-year-old girl with a fertile imagination. Creativity leaks out of every pore. She wants to draw and write and design practically every minute. Her stuffed animals all sport a wardrobe created by her out of scraps of old clothes. She wants to tell stories day and night. As a result, it is difficult for her to concentrate on a piece of paper in front of her. She would much rather be sewing than practicing her handwriting, and her mind wanders constantly.
Child number two is the world’s most mechanically inclined seven-year-old. Give him an old motherboard and a screwdriver, and watch him go to it. About two years ago, he started drawing instruction sheets for inventions. On one side would be a picture of the completed invention, and the other side would be pictures of each individual component. I am certain he’s going to create something life-changing someday. He also has a hard time concentrating and will sometimes throw a book across the room if he gets frustrated.
Child number three is a snuggle-bug. He is five years old and a very sensitive child. He is worried about not getting something right, and needs approval minute by minute. He feeds off of love and physical contact. He literally kisses the pizza delivery man – we’ve had to explain to him that there are times when kissing’s not appropriate. But it’s his love language, and nothing makes him happier than a hug and a kiss. He learns best when he’s being loved.
(See part two, also in today’s posts)