A DIY treehouse and a NOT DIY education

 The harrowing question on so many parents' minds these past few weeks is all about school: do I send them back? Do I keep them home? Should we do e-learning, or choose our own curriculum? 

Is this safe? 

Are we all going to lose our minds?

I have been no stranger to the agonizing back-and-forth on this front. I did homeschool, after all (albeit poorly, and the whole thing blew up in my face). So, I didn't exactly want to recreate this experience for myself all over again, and I also saw how how trying to navigate three different Google classroom situations was so terribly hard on me and my kids.

My hesitation, nay, angst, concerning sending them back had never really been about my fear of their physical safety in terms of getting Covid. We live in such a small town with almost no cases whatsoever in our county so I felt more or less confident about them attending school. What has been making me anxious is the various safety procedures being put in place -- how will this impact the children's mental health to wear a mask all day? To not be allowed to play with children from other grades or classes on the playground? How will teachers or other students respond to children not wearing their masks when a wiggly inevitably pulls it off their mouth?  How will teaching time be impacted by needing to implement many more hygiene procedures?

and so on... and so on...

I tend to be a dramatic soul, if you haven't already gathered that. I would say it's both a weakness and a blessing. I throw myself into things and ideas and plans, but run away from them screaming when they don't seem to suit me anymore. I am all-or-nothing.

So after hearing news that my older children would have to wear a mask all day, I panicked. I just couldn't imagine them coping well with that. So I immediately fell down a rabbit hole of researching curriculum. I contacted several homeschooling friends for their advice and input. By the end of the week, I had read through my recently-acquired copy of "A Mother's Rule of Life" and had researched and chosen my favourite curriculum for each of my three oldest, plus loads of fun additional enrichment ideas. I even made a daily schedule that began with me praying and weight-lifting at 5:45 am and moving into a full-on day of homeschooling, complete with a lunch-prep rotation so each child would learn home ec., too. 

I proudly showed Patrick my elaborate Google doc. It was 12 pages long, outlining curriculum and everyone's daily schedules and chores and every last thing I could think of. Of course, it also involved a question and answer section, trouble-shooting foreseeable problems, and already providing solutions. 

Mom needs a break? Solved it! We need extra help? I got you! Kids need extra motivation? Say no more.

What all this planning, nay, obsessing, forget to include was the answer to the other questions that kept surfacing, "What to do if mom hates it and isn't good at it? What to do if the kids hate it and aren't wired to learn this way either? What to do when the WHOLE FAMLY SUFFERS because of these two big, foreboding questions?"

Yet I stuffed the feeling down that it would be, indeed, another train wreck, or at least a continuation of what Covid-schooling from end of March until June looked like: 'unnnnnnschooling,' some Google classroom and the grey hairs to prove it, me reading a few novels aloud and um, they learned to do laundry.

So when I showed Patrick the aforementioned glorious Google doc, he so gently pointed out that it wouldn't be sustainable for me. I can't keep up a pace like that without imploding (not his words, mind you) and it would be detrimental to everyone to try and accomplish way more than is realistic.

Time went on, perhaps a mere week or two, but in this topsy turvy world where time and space blur into seemingly meaningless distinctions, that was ample time to think things through on an entirely different path. So new sneakers were purchased, a lunchbox for my littlest boy, and I felt a peace in being the person I actually am, instead of romanticize and WISH to be, rise up once again.

Yesterday morning, I went out to look at the work Patrick and the two oldest boys put into the treehouse they're working on. As I admired their efforts, and also, the beaming pride coming off my sons' faces, I thought how this project was not unlike homeschooling too.

Patrick searched Pinterest for the BEST plans and scaled it back somewhat, only to find out the price of lumber during the Times That Were Not Precedented is double the price. Suddenly, even his modified plan wouldn't work out as he had hoped. 

We did have some very weather-worn lumber just kind of sitting on our property, though. We had to tear down a dangerously tilting barn a few years ago, and just never got around to doing anything with the wood.

Well, Noah and Isaiah eagerly pulled nails out of boards, dragged the lumber over to the shade of a massive evergreen tree, and assisted Patrick in building a simple platform (for now) and a little ladder on a neighbouring tree.

The project, the hope, the dream was too much to manage, so we could only pull off what was possible with our own raw material.

So it is with me and our children's education.

I provide the home atmosphere -- books and music and meals and clean laundry. A listening ear and a disciplining tongue. Scads of siblings to play with and to learn how to get along with. Time set apart for prayer and rest and goofy jokes and dancing.

These are a form of education in and of themselves -- in how to belong in a family and to function the world. They can create the building materials to set up a really fun, engaging structure.

But the materials I provide are weather-worn and warped and need additional assistance to support the children's full weight as they scale up, up, up in life and age and expectations. The basic treehouse they can build with what they find at home is a simple set-up for play and rest, and those are beautiful things. 

But they aren't enough foundation. The raw material is just too worn.

I am grateful for the structure of school. I have said it before, but I'll say it again -- it provides me with the opportunity to be a better mother. Clearly it means something important to my children, too, as they are now officially counting down the days until they go back.

Then they'll come home and eat a snack, I'll check over their agendas and they'll probably go escape to their new hangout in the tree.