Yesterday Katherine shared the story of moving from curriculum designer back to homeschool mom. Then Charlotte shared her perspective. I can relate to both though I don't always articulate well.  Although we are nearly halfway through this journey, having graduated four of the ten, each day is still full to the brim learning with the ones still at home.  It is hard to explain how some things on this end of the journey turned out to be so different, while other parts remain so much the same. 

It is heard so very often among homeschool moms that, "I am too much of a perfectionist to let anyone else plan my curriculum."  What we came to realize however was that by high school this was no longer about "my" curriculum, "my" perfectionism. This is their education.  We have watched this play out a number of different ways in different families, rarely exactly as we moms expected. 

When they were all under 12 I had this picture of tots-to-teens all gathered around the table engrossed in study.  It does sometimes happen now (though more often for meals or family games) but we found it became increasingly difficult to fit teens into an elementary school schedule.  They get part time jobs.  They find wonderful courses at local colleges or community centers.  They have club meetings, they help run church programs, they train for sports.  They like to gather a blanket and their books and retreat to a quiet spot at the patio table or find me in my room later to go over a lesson or work at the library.

As they transition from the cocoon of home to the wider world it begins to feel awkward limiting them to the same schedule of rising, sleeping, and studying that works for a 10yo.  Needs change, as do abilities.  It is no longer sensible to hold back the other students when one was unavailable – which is many days – or when one wants to fly ahead. 

Individualized learning is the mantra of home education.  Sometimes this translates into the assumption that our students are unable to excel with any other program which we did not carefully prepare for them.  In truth, however, the intellectually adventurous homeschool student is resilient, adaptable, and ideally capable of extracting truth and knowledge from many and varied sources. In fact, it seems prudent to begin helping them learn to discern truth and error from outside sources at this stage.  We are making them students of the world after all, and that world is no longer contained in these four walls.  It is a humbling thing to acknowledge that someone else might just be able to do as well as we can.  

What I couldn't picture then was my new role as mom of teens – mentor, advisor, guide.  No longer producing the whole show but still helping to direct and keep things on schedule. What I couldn't picture then was how much time and energy that would take.  They need transportation to all those wonderful activities. They need to walk and talk about college, about relationships, about finances, about faith. They need us to be in the stands and on the sidelines cheering them.  They need to eat.  A lot. A way lot.  More than you might think. 

While they are doing all these tremendous things, younger brothers and sisters are still sounding out phonics words, learning times tables, mastering scales on the piano, needing reminders about flossing and feeding the dog.  Laundry and dishes wait for no man.  And you might just like to sew something or take pictures or jog or keep a journal or plant a garden or go to coffee.  This brings me to the penguins….

I was visiting with a friend at dance practice and had mentioned what I had done that day.  Then I mentioned the things I had not done that because of those other extra things we had accomplished.  She said, "Yes, because of the penguins."  I looked blank.  She said, "Did I ever tell you about my iceberg?"  She held her hand out pointing to the palm facing up.  "This is my iceberg.  I can only fit so many penguins on this iceberg at one time. At that point, when a new penguin jumps on one side, another gets pushed off the other."  

yes.

Moral of the story, the iceberg is a fixed size.  We must tally up our penguins accordingly. We can do so many wonderful things, but not at the same time. I could not have imagined ten years ago that curriculum development, which positively consumed me for many years, would no longer occupy so much iceberg real estate.  It seemed certain to me, then, that the day I stopped planning would be the day I lost heart for homeschooling.  As it turned out, letting go of the planning penguins freed up all sorts of space in my life to do WITH with the children.  

Now when that that package arrives in late summer I see not only education materials but the gift of time. Hours and hours given to me which would have been spent organizing and scheduling. For me, those manuals are not stifling nor enslaving, rather they are freeing.  We are now free to pass these summer weeks finishing up short lessons and then heading outside to watch snails climb up sturdy stems and take little dogs to run beside the grain fields.  When the days grow shorter and weather turns we can open the new year's books and pick right back up.  Is is now a familiar rhythm.

Will we ever do things differently?  That is entirely possible.  Penguins shift in real life. Ours may too.  I no longer feel the need to predict the future nor prescribe for others.  This is working.  There is peace today.  That is enough. 

Adding the rather obvious post script that I have no pics of teens on this post. : )  They all three have had exceptionally big weeks and my lens has not caught any of them the past few days.