Part Two: Will it be ok?

Let me begin by saying that it’s completely ridiculous for me to presume to write anything on this subject. (For those of you who had better things to do, today is a sort of continuation of yesterday’s average homeschooling day.) The first thing to keep in mind, when reading anything on this blog, is that I’m not awesome and everything is not awesome. The meme of this blog and my life is that I’m failure but God usually makes it turn out basically ok. I don’t think anyone should ever look at what I’m doing and do it because I did it. Do what makes sense to you. You’re probably a better person than me and so you should go with that.

So anyway, caveats aside, is it possible to homeschool with little kids running around, or babies strapped onto your back? Will it be ok? But before any of us answer that question, the first thing you need to decide is, What’s Ok? What does OK look like, for you? Assuming that you have a whole gaggle of kids and that they’re all at different levels and they all have big huge important needs–like, the oldest one HAS got to read, and the two next ones are just lazy, and the fourth one is a smart little cookie and really wants to read but no one has time to spend with her, and then you’ve got some babies hanging around Destroying Everything–the question is not, what will be awesome, but rather, what will be ok?

Here are some basic questions to consider when determining the okness of your life. Are you the main cook? Can any of the children do anything useful at all? And if so, what? What level of destruction are you willing to live with? What kind of help can you get? I would say the most important question is the middle one, How much destruction are you willing to live with? Tragically, for me, the answer is Not Very Much. I don’t do the chaos, the dismantling of the entire kitchen in thirty seconds or less thing very well. I have a hard time doing school when there is paper on the floor of the school room. My kids are always cleaning up. Always. Because they are always trashing everything. You’d think they would get it, but foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, so there’s not much I can do about it.

If you are a person who tolerates chaos, then you can just let the little ones roam. In fact, the farther away from your school space the better. If they rub all your make up into the rug or pour all the kitty litter into the bathtub but you get through an entire math lesson with a struggling child, it might be worth it. On the other hand, if you can’t deal with the idea of buying new make up every year, you will need to keep them under your thumb. And, I’m sorry to tell you, that’s probably not going to be awesome, but it might be ok.

My main strategy hinged on cutting the legs off my school table so that it sits very very low. There are taller desks in the room, but anyone who wants to work near me has to be at that low table. And my two little girls sit there. After much much trial and error, I have slowly amassed a quantity of boxes of things just for the little girls. I have puzzle letters, different kinds of math blocks, Montessori letters and beads, different kinds of flash cards, sewing cards, beautiful art cards, tiny dolls that can have their clothes taken on and off, and little finger puppets. At the beginning of the school year I do a sort of catechesis introduction to all the materials. “All these boxes are for you,” I say, “but you can only have one out at a time. When you’re done with one material, you have to out it away before you can get a new one.” That’s what I say. Not that they listen to me, but I do say it. And then I say it again like fifty thousand times. They also each got a proper school book. Basically it’s a book that looks official with numbers and letters but which is very cheep and they can scribble in because I do not, I repeat, Do Not have time to do phonics or numbers with people under five years old. If you want to read before then, good luck to you. Sorry, not you, Marigold.

This works very well for about two hours of our entire school day. They come in, they sit down, they’re all exited, they scribble pages in their books, they get out all the boxes, it’s all nice and orderly. But guess what, they are two little girls, and they love, LOVE to play with each other, and talk. Oh my word, the constant chatter. They start out quiet, like with the little dolls and puppets, and then one of them goes and gets the doll tea set and the big huge plastic food, whispering. I calmly and lovingly say, “Girls, you can’t talk out loud,” and carry on reading. They quiet, but quickly return to louder whispering and then louder, and then just full on talking out loud. Ten minutes later I am bellowing at the end of every line of whatever book I’m reading out, “Will You Be Quiet”. They look up injured and shocked, like they can’t believe I’m screaming. And that’s where my ability to deal with chaos gives way to my need to do math and we, all of us, banish them to the rest of the house. Elphine is usually not happy about this because it has become their habit to completely trash her, and their, bedroom. But it’s too irritating to try to shout over them.

When they were really little I spent hours on Preschools and Peace and Large Family Logistics, both very good and helpful sights, thinking that if I could just fine tune our schedule, if I could just get them to nap, it would be ok. But ok really came down to trying to keep them in a laundry basket changing out toys every three seconds. Of course, when a child can walk, that becomes unsustainable. Sometimes I would pay Elphine to follow them around.

As for adding them into the actual mix of instigerating knowledge, my rule of thumb is that one child can learn to read at a time. Marigold will not be really doing reading until Gladys is completely independent, not in everything, just in reading. I do a little bit of work with her, Marigold I mean, but I won’t be serious about it untilGladys is really on her own. I think we’re about three months away from this moment. I’m assuming Eglantine will just learn to read at the same time as Marigold because they do everything together.

I think the main thing to remember is that it won’t always be so. Children do grow up and become helpful productive beings who, even if you have to say it a thousand times, can pick up a sock off the floor. It is a matter of balance. The older ones need time and attention. The little ones can often just be along for the ride. You will wake up one day and find them participating, joining in, not pulling everything out of all the cupboards, and then you will breathe a huge sigh of relief. The main thing is to Not Ever Sit Down lest all your hard work is destroyed. Just kidding. You should definitely sit down and your hard work will be destroyed. King Solomon got there before you and had some choice words to say on the subject. Try to keep your eyes fixed not on your own foolishness and limitations, but on Jesus who cares more about the state of your own soul than anything, which is why he is letting you undergo all this horrific suffering, having babies try to kiss you and children trying to read. Oh the humanity! I whisper to myself every day.