Homeschooling

Homeschooling is really hard. Its not necessarily that I thought this was going to be a breeze, but I sort of assumed the toughest parts were behind me; deciding with Scott to homeschool, researching curriculums, organizing my day to accommodate homeschool, lesson plans, preparing the boys for school at home (convincing them they're not missing anything on those big yellow schoolbuses or the playgrounds of 'other kids schools'). We launched in last Monday and (all that preparation for 35 minutes, just had to throw that in) I finished with relief tinged with exhileration....excited and butterflies in my stomach. It took me a several days to analyze my body's response. As we sat down for the first day of school, I looked at the two sets of eager, innocent eyes glued on me, their teacher, and immediately the responsibility that God has entrusted me with, took root. I had camouflaged that acknowledgement deep into my research, believing that that feeling would develop, not into fear, but into gratefulness. Any rational part of my brain would have agreed, what's intimidating about a 4 year old and a 3 year old....
I wouldn't have let myself predict that I would be overcome with the task in the same minute school began. Oh, but I was. I had enough presence of mind to squeeze my eyes closed over tears that wanted to come and bow my head for a silent prayer for strength, to be worthy...to be humble. Its funny how God works; He gave me the words in that prayer to root out the problem, but it has taken me two weeks, perhaps I should say it has only taken me two weeks and for that I am so grateful. Accepting responsibility for the boys education has lead me to believe I am in charge of their education and an insidious danger crept in...I allowed myself to believe those boys are mine. I built my confidence about being their teacher by doing research, analyzing and thinking through learning styles, I drew graphs, I built a homeschool alcove under my stairs...I prepared, I prepared me. And in the process, I forgot. I forgot Whose boys those are. I forgot Who has paved the way for school at home, Who determined their curriculum, Who formed them and made them in my womb, Who knows who they will grow up to be and knows fully what I am capable of and my limits. I forgot Who knows the whole picture, the beginning and the end and Who holds my life in His hands.
My homeschool idealism crumbled last night. I had a dreadfully ineffective week as a teacher. What an important lesson that God in His grace brought to my attention: I cannot homeschool. Let me write that again with the proper emphasis; I cannot homeschool. I almost bought in to the first statement until His grace shone through my guilt and tears and I realized how much I had been reliant on me and not on Him. My pride, my pride, my pride again. Oh my wretched pride. What a deceptive confidence I built a homeschool house in, thank you God for sending the winds that blew that house down in only our first two weeks. My Mom (whose very job is counseling and encouraging homescool mom's) gave me sage advice. She reminded me of the essence of homeschooling, its flexibility, its ability to morph and grow with the family it serves. To relax, this is pre-school homeschool and I was heading in a direction that would produce an exhausted first year, and more than likely, no second year. I spent last night feeling exposed, embarassed, deeply humbled and woke this morning new in God's mercies. I am regrouping. I pray this lesson goes deep (as my Benny says, "down, down, down to my toes"). I am overwhelmed at the beauty of the task before me. Thank you Lord Jesus.