A few thoughts on being a school mom

(Clears throat) "Hi, I'm Jenna, and I'm recovering homeschooling mom."

Haha, I kid, I kid. 

Moving on.

I homeschooled my two oldest children for a year and a half. As of now, I have been a school mom longer than I was a homeschool mom, because they've been in our local Catholic school now for over two years. We enrolled them at the end of the first term when Noah was in grade one. He's now past the midway point of third grade.

I really feel like a school mom, as it's part of my parenting life in a big way now. But the shift was huge for my thinking. I went into pregnancy with my first expecting that I would homeschool all my children. Such was our untested zeal that I had to deal with the embarrassment of receiving a call from Seton homeschooling when we had no born children; Patrick had sent away for their catalogue and they had an 'admissions counsellor' call and ask us if we had many any decisions for our family. We had to explain that I was only 30 weeks pregnant... so, no, we wouldn't be enrolling our children anytime soon. (Interestingly, the admissions counsellor chuckled softly and assured us that parents of unborn children wrote in more often than you would think!)

In the early days of parenting, I poured over homeschooling blogs and books. I scoured library sales for the best books to stock my house with, and completely submersed my minutes and hours into anything I could think of that might be 'educational' for our kids (not, mind you, flashcards, but I did spend a pretty penny on workbooks because Noah genuinely loved them. Isaiah, not. If you know them in real life, both of their reactions will not surprise you.). So homemade playdoh by the bucketful, finger-painting, nature walks, lacing cards -- I was determined to teach my own and that was how I'd spend my time and money.

All this went fine, wonderful even... until the time I actually had to get down to brass tacks and attempt to teach my children to read.

via GIPHY

That was when I butted against my inadequacies in a big way. 

(Now it turns out, after having them both in school for a while now, they are actually just late bloomers in that regard, and despite lots of extra help and attention from incredibly skilled educators, they just didn't/won't take to it quickly, naturally and easily. They deeply love books, stories and the written word, though, so I don't sweat it too much.)

It was at this intersection between plain ol' mom and "school teacher" that I buckled under the weight of it. Very early in the game, I realize, but it truly would have been disastrous to continue plowing through.

So putting our kids into school was a huge blessing for us in countless of ways, even if it wasn't what I had envisioned. The kids are learning routines, discipline and camaraderie with their peers in a different way than if they were schooled completely at home. They would, of course, learn those things from me and Patrick, but it really helps reinforce our parenting to have the teachers work with them in these areas.

{Of course, they learn lots of wonderful 'schoolish' stuff, too, but I always feel it is important to state what a great job the teachers do in teaching the kids basic life skills, too, things like being kind and sharing. I have seen far too many memes accusing schools of failing to teach kids the true necessities of life, like how to change the oil on their car, or boil an egg or file their taxes. And I'm like "HELLO, what do you think the parents should be doing at home?!"} 

Having attempted to teach just two kids at once, I am really in awe of what a teacher can accomplish with a room of twenty-plus kids. Likewise, I can't praise teachers enough for how invested they are in their students. My whole family is benefitted by having this team of enthusiastic, educated, committed people who advocate for our children, who want them to succeed.

About a month ago, it was a snow day at school, when the buses are cancelled but the building is still open. My children love going on snow days because they get to play more than normal, be in each other's classes, and just generally do things they don't get to do on a typical school day.

On this particular snow day, a few teachers taught the kids finger-knitting, and my boys took to it enthusiastically. When they came home, they wanted to keep at it, and really only paused for a quick snack when they got home, and then dinner a few hours later. After dishes were loaded up in the dishwasher and evening prayers were said, Patrick whisked Elijah off to bed and I got down to brass tacks, reading them "The Green Ember" (which is worth every raving review you may have read. I  really must do a post soon about it).

They pulled out their finger-knitting projects while they listened and I just had to snap a picture of what I saw.

 

It seems like the perfect representation of what having our kids in school has meant to me. 

I am still free to pursue what I love with them -- filling their minds with beautiful literature and our own family culture and routines, and in fact, I can do so more freely now because school days allow some breathing room for all of us. 

Meanwhile, dedicated and passionate teachers share their own gifts and strengths with them, things I would never have thought to teach them, but these lessons captivate their enthusiasm in beautiful, sweet ways.

More is added to the buffet plate for them this way. I am grateful.