We Homeschooled for Seven Years: Tips from “Ms. Mama”

What do you call it when a homeschool mom talks to herself? (see answer at end)

Growing up, we Baby Boomers heard a lot about the Three R’s: Reading, ’Riting and ’Rithmatic. I’m offering a new set of R’s for nouveau homeschoolers: Respect, Routine and Ritual. Frankly, I don’t know how homeschooling during COVID-19 can be done sanely without these three cornerstones. Easy for me to say, right? I’m not the one facing 6^th grade math with a knot in my stomach because my child will now know how little I actually know! 

I opened with a favorite riddle from my family’s homeschooling years, a journey we began the day before New York’s Trade Center towers came down. Now that the coronavirus has created fallout inside many homes, parents everywhere have no choice but to homeschool. We see firsthand why we should uplift and stand with our teachers, and salute them as they work hard to continue holding their students in a good place. 

The Internet is bulging with countless homeschool related videos, GIFs and memes, trying for comic relief. While we do need levity—to laugh to keep from crying—if you are in the trenches, you know trying to balance working and schooling from home with a busy family life under one roof 24-7—with zero warning—is no laughing matter. I grew up in a southern Baptist church where working on Sunday was a sin—unless “the ox was in the ditch”. Meaning: if you need to iron your dress for church, then that’s OK. The ox is in the ditch when it comes to this idea of balance. It’s no sin to accept that the best you can do during shelter-in-place is manage.

Our family entered the uncharted homeschool universe by choice, armed with conferences, advice on curriculums and research, research, research. Even though your homeschooling trek is vastly different from ours, I can picture the stress and downright fear parents face. This level of response is a first that everybody hopes will not last. That is what drove my decision to write this piece, in the hopes that others might glean even a morsel of wisdom (and hence, sanity) from our experiences after seven consecutive years homeschooling. 

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, after breakfast, I had set out for what would become my ritual before-school walk—a rare time during school hours that I had completely to myself—while my husband and daughter shot hoops, another ritual. Shortly after leaving home, I came upon a man sitting in his pick-up truck parked on the court behind our house, his radio blasting a news report: “Helicopters have been spotted over the capital building.” I walked on, wondering: which capitol? Sacramento or D.C.? But because our morning ritual did not include radio or television—and our palms were not yet dedicated to cell phones—I was clueless as to what had happened. My husband found out once he was at his office, which was walking distance from our house, but decided not to interrupt our second day of homeschooling; he’d tell me later. I happened to find out after lunch when our daughter and I went out to draw a chalk sundial on the driveway. My neighbor was getting out of her car and asked if I’d heard. Our daughter was seven years old and we opted not to make this tragedy part of our curriculum. 

The disbelief and terror of 9-11 plunged the world into a lasting new reality. Not having lost anyone we knew in the tragedy, our days at home in northern California seemed to march on physically untouched by the repercussions. However, once our daughter was in bed and we watched the evening news, or received emails and phone calls from friends living through New York City’s pandemonium, our souls and spirits were deeply scarred. Now, with around-the-clock COVID-19 T.V. coverage on top of the onslaught of social media, we can be too close to what the media chooses to show and tell us. As we shelter-in-place amid so many uncertainties, to preserve peace and sanity we must create sanctums for our families to unplug and refuel, connect with each other on a basic human level. We can do with more of the creative spirit we summon during power outages, when NOT being able to plug in is a refreshing change, and we easily let go of failing at multi-tasking.

Our decision to homeschool (which is irrelevant but I know you’re wondering) began as a pedagogical choice and grew to be much more. After weighing the pros and cons of local schools, my husband and I—both being artists—decided to become curators/general contractors of the art and science of our daughter’s education. We borrowed from various pedagogies, philosophies and practices. I found anything written by historian and education philosopher, Jacques Barzan, to be most valuable, especially his still relevant 1944 book, The Teacher in America, in which he uses his signature wit and humor to compare the ritual of education with the art of teaching. Dr. Barzun’s writings helped with our main mission: to guide our daughter in how to learn.

RESPECT

To quote my good friend, author-activist Luis Rodriguez, “When we look at its Latin roots, respect means to see again.” Of course, who can see that word without hearing Aretha spell it in song? And she’s right: you have to “find out what it means” to you and your family to see your home, each other, your goals, your journey in a new light. Each day that this pandemic stretches further across our lives, it makes clear that seeing again is not reserved for individual families. Governments around the world need to do the same. (I’m seeing essay prompt/ research paper concept here—there’s my home educator side coming out!).

R-E-S-P-E-C-T is an ideal place to start as you reframe school to fit inside your home. After choosing to homeschool, our efforts around seeing again were conscious and visible, involving all three family members. First official step: my husband and I brainstormed a plan for rolling the idea out to our daughter, who had just finished two years at a Waldorf-inspired charter kindergarten. Armed with explanations and anecdotes, we sat on our back deck and asked her: “What do you think it means to homeschool? She looked puzzled and said: “You take your dolls and toys to school?”  No, we said calmly, it means we’ll have school here at home. We’ll turn the guest room into a classroom. “I don’t really get it,” she said, shrugging, “maybe when I’m in the first grade.” She then ran off to her play structure. The two grown folks looked at each other, shrugged, too, then tucked our speeches in our pockets and moved on; but not empty-handed. Our first valuable homeschooling lesson was a reminder: as parents/teachers, we have our ideas & plans and our children/students have their own.

Of course, you don’t need a dedicated room for schooling. Look again at your living space to spot potential where you’ve never had to look before. Families are creating study zones around the home; breathing new life into alcoves and closets. As the weather warms, why not pitch a tent in the back yard? Involve everyone in whatever problem-solving process your family is facing. Throughout our seven years homeschooling, asking the child what she thought was a mainstay tactic.

Each year, we filed an affidavit with our county and operated as a private school with one student. I was Lead Teacher, my husband joked about being CBW (Chief Bottle Washer) but the fact is we rearranged our roles to accommodate Harmony Homeschool (credit goes to our daughter for coming up with the name). She became excited once our guest room transformation began: replacing carpet with hardwood, scoring an antique school desk and adding other fixings of school, such as a giant blackboard. She was developing an infectious sense of humor. One day during our first year, as she and I worked on a lesson together, she raised her hand and said with a giggle, “Ms. Mama! May I go to the bathroom, please?”

My husband and I immediately knew that homeschooling one child, alone would never work; we had to create community. This was not difficult because a county-wide homeschool group was already in place where we live. We reached out and found a good fit. This was pre-smartphones and Facebook so families relied on email and old-fashioned telephones. Parents would float ideas for classes to form group classes inside our homes, or with teachers offering services as independent contractors, or through one of the then new homeschool charters that had cropped up. Those of you with access can use video and social media platforms to do these things virtually. 

 It’s encouraging to see people re-thinking how we connect outside of Cyberspace: using sidewalks as a canvas for chalk art and poetry; teachers form drive-by parades through neighborhood streets lined with students grateful to get a glimpse of normalcy; a teddy bear scavenger hunt went viral when people nationwide joined in, placing stuffed animals and rainbows in windows; people are stocking their Little Free Libraries with canned goods, handmade masks and supplies; people in many places howl at the moon every night at 8PM to show solidarity for the frontline. This is ground-level community at its best: generating personal connections—even from a social distance. The single biggest challenge I see for most homeschool parents and students is: managing addictions to smartphones and other devices. Author, mother, filmmaker, Tiffany Schlain has some strong arguments in favor of unplugging one day a week. She outlines it all in her new book:  24/6: The Power of Unplugging One day a Week.

ROUTINE

Draped over my studio reading chair is a dish towel showing a cartoon of a woman knitting with the caption: I Knit So I Don’t Hurt People. I only knit dish rags—quick, easy, practical—which I mostly give as gifts. I knitted a boat load of them between 2001-2008. Like Tita’s half-mile long wedding bedspread in Laura Esquivel’s novel, Like Water for Chocolate, each stitch is an act of consciousness. But unlike Tita, my stacks of dish rags are not a measure of sadness and worry; they represent time spent unraveling the stresses of the day. 

Another thing that kept me from hurting people is also crucial to your sanity: routine. There is no one size fits all: you’ll need as many routines as there are family members and then one more for the family itself. For our school work, each morning the day’s schedule was outlined on a colored index card, set out at breakfast. Could also be a spreadsheet, or a good old-fashioned chalk or bulletin board. If you’re able, how about a whole wall in your home’s common area? Paint & paper is the quickest, most frugal way to transform your space. Make it an art installation! You (or someone you know) may have enough old paint hanging around to do the job without a trip to your hardware store.

One piece of luck that’s on your side: you’re not having to design curriculum. Nevertheless, the e-valanche of content from principals, counselors, teachers, tutors etc., has to be managed. All the more reason you, the General Contractor, need routine to determine what’s important and what’s not; what needs to be done when and how. General contractors don’t have to know how to do drywall AND plumbing AND electrical because they know how to find people who do. You can do that too, Punchinella-in-the Shoe (which is, BTW, an age-old circle game for the whole family). Reach out to your network and find out who you know with the expertise you need and set up a trade. Unlike when we were homeschooling, today there is a plethora of FREE help online through orgs like the non-profit, Khan Academy, and for college, med and grad students this is an excellent time to search for scholarships: www.scholarshipinformer.com is a good place to start. Again: ask your children how they think you should handle whatever problem you’re facing. This gives them ownership. 

RITUAL

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, it’s a habit. —Aristotle

Good habits are a good thing. As social animals, we humans have evolved around a myriad of rituals. Faith-based families often have home rituals already, such as prayer, meditation, music or dance. Ritual gives meaning to routine by bringing attention and intention to our thoughts. You’ve no doubt heard that our thoughts lead to actions, and those actions become habits that form our character, and our character shapes our destiny. By slowing down, you will recognize rituals you already have, ready to fold into your homeschool process. Each of us knows best what works for our family—it’s a “you had to be there” situation. But I will say that our homeschool ritual was nature-based, linked—in three parts—to season and time-of-day, in sync with our school day rhythm: Intention | Connection | Recap. 

Routine is story, (the What)—a series of events that make up of your homeschool narrative. Ritual is plot, (the Why)—details and fixings that bring meaning to your narrative. E.M. Forster, author of A Room With a View explains this difference most succinctly: plot is “a narrative of events, with the emphasis on causality…The king died and the queen died is a story. The king died and the queen died of grief is a plot.” Each homeschool morning our little trio huddled on our back deck to welcome & embrace the new day (routine/story) via original songs and verses (ritual/plot) —to set our intentions and connect with each other and the tasks ahead.

These are surreal times. We are all having to travel down a road never before taken, and it’s frightening not knowing where it will end up. I have not written this as a playbook, but rather as an offering of support by allowing you a glance into our approach to glean ideas for your own. Just as we know better than to try and recreate our office work environment at home, when it comes to homeschooling during COVID-19, the best anyone can do is a new original that fits your lifestyle. My hope is that these ideas around Respect, Routine and Ritual will ease your homeschooling during sheltering, with the added bonus of working its way into your lives beyond the crisis. Be kind to yourselves in the process and, to quote a note I saw years ago taped to the inside of a bathroom stall at our daughter’s kindergarten: stay flexible, that way you won’t get bent out of shape.

Answer to opening riddle: A parent/teacher conference!