Encouragement for high school

Today I'd like to expand just a little on something I wrote in my last post:

In our family, our best learning happens when we allow time for ideas and projects to "ferment," when we make connections between subjects, or allow one project to serve in several areas. But most especially, the best learning is a collaboration between the curiosity of the child and the wisdom and experience of the parent. It's best when not overcomplicated by trying to shoehorn a preset curriculum or available class into your present area of readiness. (Sometimes the curriculum or class is a good fit, and that's fine.) These principles hold true, at different levels, during the entire time a child lives at home, and hopefully beyond.

If you've homeschooled, you know what questions/comments homeschoolers get asked more than any others. They are, "Are you going to do this through high school?" and "I don't have the patience to homeschool!"

They're legitimate concerns, of course. They're asked by people who are trying to do right by their children. And both are relevant to what I wrote in my post.

I'd like to address the last comment first, because I got a good answer to this one early on in my homeschooling journey. It was, "Of course you're not patient! But homeschooling forces a person to develop patience." That answer was an encouragement to me then, in 1997, and it's still an encouragement to me now.

But mostly I'd like to talk about the high school issue, because it encompasses both concerns. If there's one thing that most parents are frightened of, it's raising teens. So teaching them naturally seems even more frightening. And yes, there are teens with serious emotional challenges who need special help. I'm not qualified to talk to those parents; I can only pray for you. But having a teen isn't automatically a reason to throw up your hands. And homeschooling a teen (or several of them, so I've heard) can be extremely rewarding. All I'd like to do is encourage those parents who are scared before they start. If you are intrigued by the idea of homeschooling high school, but you are surrounded by people who question your judgment, take heart!

The number one thing to remember when homeschooling any child is to put the relationship first. You've probably heard that said about homeschooling before, but the reason I'm repeating it about high school is that people tend to panic when they see those college requirements and tests looming. I know--I've done it. And I believe in excellence. But there are many creative ways to send a message of excellence to your teen. Any job can be well done, and for some teens, cleaning their rooms or being considerate to a difficult sibling is really a more difficult task than scoring well on a test.

We do talk about test prep and requirements, even make a game of them, but I try not to get lopsided about it. I want my daughter to know her own priorities and stick by them. I also want her to be able to work hard at things she puts her mind to, and make hard decisions if necessary. I do want her to give all the subjects a chance, but more for their own sakes more than for college admission. I don't want to send a message that I'm cowed by other people's expectations or comparing her with other teens, because a child will internalize that message. It's really a form of peer pressure.

Here's one thing that homeschooling has done for our relationship: Since CZ and I live with each other day in and day out, we have to get along. Obviously I'm trying to teach good character, but as the grownup, I have to take on the greater burden of "bearing with." And honestly, I'll say it's easier to get along than it used to be when she eight to eleven or so. Perhaps we've come to some understandings, and that makes it easier.

We're both a bit reserved, so I've had to develop a style of talking about conflicts that fits our family. I've known other families who are more comfortable with a therapeutic style of relating, and could wear their faith more on their sleeve, and sometimes (especially when I was younger) I've even thought we should be more like that. But two guidelines serve our family well: We joke a lot, and we try not to make too big a deal of things. That latter one is harder, because we're all oldest children. But still, it's a good rule.

(And about that faith thing. It doesn't mean that we don't have it. It means more that we don't want to wear out certain words by over-using them. I'm convinced that this is an introverted thing.)

So how does any of this apply to learning? I'll give one nitty gritty example. During the past couple of weeks, CZ and I spent a lot of time writing a paper for her literature class. (We're taking it for accountability.) It was supposed to be a simple persuasive essay, and I suppose the teacher wouldn't have cared whether it was on whether chocolate ice cream is better than vanilla, so long as it had supporting points. But CZ wanted to write about the composer Sibelius. And she wanted to research, even though this wasn't a research paper.

So, I set out to advocate for a solution that would fulfill the requirement, and yet still allow her to write about something that interested her. First of all, that meant coming up with a persuasive thesis. (After three drafts, she finally narrowed it down to persuading the reader that Sibelius' stylistic toolkit included much more than the popular Finlandia's catchy and triumphant themes.) Then it meant that she researched, while I kept her on task. ("How exactly does this quote support your thesis?") Finally it meant that I proofed and proofed, but I tried make sure that she understood the reasons for my comments, and that as much of the final language as possible was hers. A good editor does as much.

I'm rather glad we don't have the paper back yet before I write this to color my response, because I'm really proud of what she wrote! We both learned a lot, and on a deep level, about Sibelius. And CZ learned that she could analyze music and make a logical argument even on an emotional subject!

And here's the beautiful thing about it: I'm remembering all those days when CZ was six or seven and every time she had to write anything, she dug the pencil into the table and rolled the paper up into a ball. And I'd wonder whether I'd ever be able to marry her charmingly metaphorical way of speaking with the ability to put any words on paper (or screen). I'm also remembering the days when she rejected one canned curriculum after another and I would take dictation on her endless ideas instead, just to help her realize she could write. (At eight or so, she could go on for an hour straight about an idea for a business--which of course needed funding right that minute!) I'm remembering that she's still not a natural at spelling and handwriting, though she's improved a lot.

But that doesn't mean she can't write! The improvement this year alone has been dramatic. She's always had a "voice," but I wasn't always sure that we could organize it or articulate it in a way that would serve her well as an adult. I think I'm just starting to see that coming together. And that, in my mind, is what high school is all about.