Some parents can admirably give the date upon which they began their homeschooling venture. Truth be told, EVERY parent can -- teaching my child at home began the moment I learned I was pregnant. When I read books on caring for babies out loud, sang lullabies and decorated the nursery, fought off the temptation to scream at the goober who pulled out in front of me at 10 miles an hour, worshipped loudly on Wednesday nights, and rubbed whatever part "surfaced" on my belly, I was teaching my child. At home. In church. In the car. All while she was in the womb. By myself. With no certificate/license/commendation that said I could.
After we were settled into a regular room, bathed and fed and happy, I taught my newborn son as I told him about how much his Daddy loves him, how much I love him, and how much his big sister loves him. I stroked his hair and held his fingers and told him about the love of Christ that has been shed abroad in our hearts and would live in his; I sang "We've Been Waiting for You" and "Amazing Grace" and my own adapted version of "Baby Mine." The whole time, I was teaching him. Homeschooling. Or hospital-schooling. Whatever.
I taught my son.
Every parent is a homeschooler. Really. I promise you. We begin by teaching our infants to nurse (yes, they have an inate sucking reflex, but have you ever seen them go to town on a completely useless fingertip?); we move to teaching them to roll over onto round bellies to explore the world around them; next it's Cheerios into mouth from bright blue cup with tiny finger pinches; and before the end of that amazing first year, it's little soft steps on soft open floors to give Mommy and Daddy hugs and kisses. That's just the FIRST year of homeschooling! Precious fortunate are those who get many, many years of it afterward.
The notion that one must be a jumper wearing, hair braiding, smile sporting, van driving, organic growing, home birthing, Bible study teaching kind of genius to homeschool is inaccurate (as I'm sure you know; chances are good that if you're here, you're probably at least curious and considering homeschooling). Please know that I hold absolutely no sarcastic disrespect for anyone fitting any or all of the above descriptors; however, I remember a time that I truly, TRULY believed only certain kinds of people were cut out to home school. Like somehow or other, God had created a group of home schoolers just as He created a group of blondes or talls or beautifuls or plumbers. What I've since learned is that ANYONE can home school. ANYONE. Regardless of degree, income, living situation, family status... ad infinitim. Regardless. Personally, I'm emerging as sort of a Christian Hippie -- I don't dig conformity, I believe in transformation; I think children become a part of the home as a whole and not that the family shapes entirely around the child; my husband and I are blessed beyond measure and filthy rich compared to the lion's share of the third world but hardly living in Palm Beach; I wear Birkenstock sandals and drive a massive (preowned) SUV; I mill my own wheat, make my own bread, and I've memorized my order at the Wendy's drive thru. As an experiment in contradictions, I was vastly relieved to learn that God could, in fact, use me to instruct my children and intended to do so from day one.
With all that in mind, how did we get started? Again, I cannot give you an exact day that I began academic pursuits with my daughter (she's our first). I do clearly remember making flashcards and buying crayons and art paper for our trips out of town. While everyone got ready for the evening's concert, Itty-bitty and I would sit on the bed in our hotel room looking at letters, coloring pictures, and looking at books. We practiced saying the letters of the alphabet one by one (Mommy: "A" Itty-bitty: "haaaayeeee" Mommy: "B" Itty-bitty: "beeeee"), used finger paints to make greeting cards, looked out the hotel windows and counted cars below clouds above. At home, we counted beans and books and anything else that sat still long enough; we walked through the grass and talked about green; we sat on the porch and I spelled out C-A-T and D-O-G. Mind you, at the time, my sweet baby girl was only a year old, still learning what it meant to be a big sister, and acclimating to Daddy's travel schedule; we weren't exactly going for academic precision, we were pouring a foundation. As we worked with Itty-bitty, our son began to pick up on and participate in our activities. It's been a wonderful roller coaster ride so far -- yes, there have been a few fast slide dips (frequently unexpected!), but you simply cannot compare those to the amazing peaks and whimsical flips! Lord, may it ALWAYS be so fun!
That's how we started. I'll be thrilled to hear how others began and all they're doing to make this journey both beautiful and bountiful.
Peace and joy,
Hughknew
