Homeschool to school

Quite a few people over the years have asked me what it was like to go from being homeschooled for nine years to spending high school in a "real" school. Now it's mostly parents deciding which path to take with their own children. So, I decided to finally write that down since I never have.

My answer is mostly "It was great!". And it was. I loved my high school years. I know many people at the same school, even in my same group of friends, felt very differently, but that christian private school life was perfect for me. I met so many lifelong friends there. I met my husband there. My mom worked there. My brothers used to go there. My teachers were amazing. It felt completely like home to me.

However, I had the advantage of being able to compare the two worlds. The homeschool denim dress world against the "real" school world (I know, I know - it wasn't a public school). Now that I'm out of school altogether and can look back over all those years it's like watching a movie. I know some of my memories are probably warped and not quite accurate, but these are the things that strike me most about the transition.

The artificial things became a priority. Appearance was not near as important to me before I went to school. My mom laid out my clothes for me until I was probably eleven or so. And even then I think she had to tell me it was time for me to start picking them out myself. Of course, I was a girl so hair and make-up was a fun hobby for me, but I never took it seriously. To this day I'm a very unobservant person. I can have a conversation with someone for two hours and walk away having no idea what they were wearing. I never ever notice people's shoes. Ever. So feel free to walk around in slippers all day. All of that was multiplied in a good way when I was homeschooled. I rarely gave it a second thought if I was friends with someone that had a big mole on their face, wore long denim skirts or if their hair was always frizzy.

Once I went to school those things started to stand out to me more and I became critical, judgmental and proud. Listening to conversations at school I figured out that if you're a girl and you naturally have a hint of a sideburn then you will be talked about. If you wear the same hoodie every day you'll get laughed at. If your hair is less than silky then someone will make a hurtful comment under their breath as they pass you in the hallway. I started hearing things about other people in the school that I had never even noticed before. But once they were pointed out to me I thought maybe I should be noticing them. Maybe it is ridiculous that the girl I sit next to in math never wears make-up. So, naturally I started to become more critical of myself. I started picking out all of these things about myself that I didn't like and imagined people were probably talking about them too. I realized I wanted everyone to think I was pretty and I was concerned about giving anyone a reason to start talking about me.

My passion for learning faded. I really mostly enjoyed school when I was homeschooled. Not math. Never math. But everything else was fine with me. I had a passion for science. I remember getting my new science book in the mail at the beginning of one school year and racing up to my room to read it right away. When I was in elementary school I started something with my friends called "The Nature Journal". We would go around and collect leaves and observe animals and color pictures and make copies to hand out to our other friends. We loved doing that.

I also absolutely loved reading. I would go through tons of books a month and each one I liked more than the last. My mom was great at giving me educational, but fun books to read. It took me a while to realize how educational they were because I just enjoyed reading them so much.

Once I got to school all of the above became "dorky". The people who loved science and read about it in their spare time were called nerds. "The Nature Journal" story was a dark secret I needed to keep unless I wanted to be mocked until the end of time. Reading was just something you did because you had to try and pass the next test in English. Even then, it was really just skimming or typing in sparknotes.com. I realized with all the homework I had each night and weekend, I rarely had time to just sit down and read a book. I began reading books, not for the joy of reading, but because I had to get the facts so I can take the quiz on Friday. I'd jot down the answers and then forget anything that happened in that book because it was time to fill my brain with new facts from another book for the next test.

I think I made high honor roll the first semester, but my grades were on a steady decline for the rest of my high school career. I suddenly had so many other things to worry about like getting a dress that would look as good as the other girls' for the dance and acting like I barely studied for that test I took because it would sound dorky if I said I was up until midnight pouring over my notes. My passion for learning was slowly decreasing and my passion for petty things was growing and growing. 80% of my life was spent with my peers who were whispering encouragement to follow that path in my ears. Obviously, I take that responsibility on myself and do not intend to blame anyone else for that decision to essentially give up on school. My point is my environment change is what triggered it and encouraged it, in my opinion.

It opened my eyes to the reality of the world. Like most kids, this is a good and bad thing. It's always sobering when you make that jump from innocence to horror at the evil in the world. There were words, terms and concepts I had never heard of before I went to school. I got all the typical responses of shock that I was such a sheltered, uninformed, innocent little girl that had never heard this sexual slang being thrown around the ninth grade. But is that really a bad thing? Of course not, but I started to feel like it was. I felt pretty dumb sometimes that everyone understood whatever inappropriate thing that was being talked about and I just had to laugh along like I totally got it. I lacked the maturity to stand up under that and remind myself that even though I was the only one that didn't get it, that was okay.

But school also opened up my eyes to how blessed I was. I met all kinds of people, even within a private christian school. I realized my parents were awesome, godly people that worked so hard to raise their kids in the Lord. I realized I had sweet older brothers and we got along ten times better than many siblings I observed. I learned my mom was an even better cook than I thought she was after eating at a few friend's houses. I realized there was no other job I wanted more than to be a wife and a mom. I realized depending on God in any and every situation isn't just something they teach you in Sunday School. It literally carries you day to day. And I learned it was a wonderful thing that I got to spend the majority of my first years with my mom as my mentor instead of my peers.


I remember my first day of school so well. I had memorized my schedule the night before, terrified I was going to go to the wrong class on accident. I even dreamed about it. And, of course, I went to my math class instead of my history class first thing in the morning. I ended up walking into my history class ten minutes late and there were no chairs left, so I had to sit in the teacher's chair. I felt every person's eyes on me as I blushed and walked across the room.

Later that afternoon I sat in the front row of my Bible class where the teacher put a stack of five identical papers on my desk.

"I think you gave me too many," I said.
"You're supposed to pass them back," said the irritated boy behind me. I heard the quiet giggles from around the room and blushed all over again.

The great thing about these experiences is they did prepare me for later in life. Aren't we supposed to look strange to the world when are Christians? There are plenty of times that we are going to feel dumb or be laughed at, but the trick is resisting the urge to compare ourselves to the world and choosing to look to Jesus. I would say I failed pretty miserably at that in my high school and college years, but that failure has motivated to choose wisely now. My life happened exactly how it was supposed to happen and I am beyond thankful for the years I had at home and in school. And now I know how to pass papers back. So I've got that going for me.

A day in the life

This is not meant to be one of those "look how hard my life is" type of posts, but more of a "look how hilarious my day was".

We are currently a "one car family", so if there is somewhere I want to go I need to take Andrew to work in the morning. No biggie. I couldn't even do that for a while in Silverdale because he worked in a restricted area, so dropping him off there was not an option. I decided today that I wanted to get the kids to story time since the library is just around the corner and Will has always enjoyed that. Andrew said he should be finished early with training at the gym, so I figured that's perfect. Maybe we can swing by and pick him up on the way home at eleven.

We roused the kids at 6:45 this morning and scooted Andrew off to the gym. I came back home with the kids and checked some things off my to-do list while they played and watched a couple shows. Before I knew it we had to leave for story time in 25 minutes and I still hadn't showered. Somehow we were able to arrive five minutes early (after two wrong turns) and had a fun time listening to stories about PJ's. Well, Annie and I listened while Will hid behind my chair and disrupted everyone with dramatic wailing when I suggested he sit on the floor with the other kids. He's not what you would call a social butterfly, but it's no skin off my nose. He buried his face in my leg as we collected our free sticker and coloring pages at the end and we were back in the car.

I balanced Annie on one hip and a package on the other at the post office while Will refused to listen to my commands to stay right next to me in line. He skipped around the room waving and saying hello to each person in line behind us while I tried not to wonder why he turned into such a ham at a post office, but refused to make eye contact with anyone at story time. Oh well. We mailed our package and drove over to Walmart to pick up some prints (making two more wrong turns). By the time we arrived Annie was asleep in her car seat and I knew if I stuck her in the stroller, forcing her to be awake, she would be an angry screaming banshee all the way to the Photo Center. So, my solution was to push Will in the Sit N Stand with one hand while my other arm supported the sleeping Annie on my shoulder. I'd figure out the whole which arm do I use to pay for my prints thing once I got there.

Once we finished that adventure and returned to the car I checked my texts and saw that Andrew actually needed to be picked up between 2:30 and 3. That meant the kids needed to take early naps. Which meant they needed an early lunch. Which meant I had thirty minutes to get home, feed them and get them to sleep if I wanted them to be somewhat rested for the remainder of the day. Okay.

I was feeling like a rockstar thirty minutes later with two sleeping and fed kids and some time to myself to eat my lunch and do a little cleaning. Then I realized it was commissary day. And the commissary is right next to where I was picking Andrew up. And two trips to the base did not make sense, so I needed to make my grocery list stat so that we could go straight there after collecting Andrew.

At 2:15 I was putting the finishing touches on my list with Will snuggling next to me when Andrew called and said he was ready to be picked up and that he needed me to bring him his badge. I told Will to go potty and dashed into our room to grab his badge and threw my semi-completed list in my purse. I woke up a very sleepy, very angry Annie and decided there was no time for a diaper change at that moment since Daddy was waiting. We quickly got shoes on and started to head out the front door. With Annie on my hip again I slammed the door behind me and began to walk down the porch when I noticed our dog, Kimber, dashing by me out into our front yard. My complete confusion went away when I looked back at the door and realized the dead bolt was somehow out, so the door hadn't closed at all when I thought it had. I used my key to open the doors to the van and told Will to get in his car seat. He was now bawling his eyes out screaming "My puppy! My puppy!". I also noted his shorts were shimmying their way down to his ankles since I had forgotten to button them up again after potty time.

I hurriedly buckled Annie into her car seat and ran towards Kimber, praying she wouldn't take off down the block like I knew she wanted to. Well, that prayer was answered with a solid "no". She was off like a bullet. I sprinted after he at first with my messy bun becoming much messier and the 95 degree weather making me sweat like crazy, but she was way too far from the kids for me to continue chasing her. I booked it back to the car to buckle a devastated Will into his car seat and told him we would go drive after the puppy and catch her. No sooner had I hopped into the driver's seat than I realized the front door was still wide open. Ah. Closed that and drove half a block down the road where we saw Kimber standing triumphantly in someone's driveway. I inwardly groaned when I noticed a mom with five or six kids standing on their porch watching this three-ring circus. However, I was grateful when one of the older boys came sprinting off the porch alongside me saying "Will she bite?". I assured him she wouldn't and we were able to corner her in a small side yard. She cowered down and kept her ears back as we took the walk of shame back to the car. I waved and thanked the boy for helping and drove back home to drop Kimber off.

We finally picked up Daddy at the gym and made our way towards his work. Halfway there he got a call that he no longer needed his badge and was free to go. Quick U-turn and we arrived at the commissary where the kids pulled on each other's seat belts in the shopping cart the entire time and alternated screaming and crying.

We ended the day with my famous Mac n Cheese with cut up hot dogs and some lively discussions with Will about alligators. I'm hoping for an extremely boring day tomorrow.

Forget to remember

I'm in the process of creating Will's video of his third year in this world. His birthday is in July and Annie's is in January, so every six months I have the pleasure of putting together a compilation of videos and pictures of their past year set to music. I plan to put them all on a DVD and give it to them when they go off to college (or whenever they leave our house and I'm left crying in their empty bedrooms).

I admit part of the reason for this project is selfish. I love having a way to look back over their short little lives so far and see how much they've grown. I have also always had an obsession with looking back at old pictures and videos of myself. I used to sit for hours as a teenager watching videos of myself and my brothers when we were younger. Yes, it reminded me of a simpler time. Yes, I liked to fast-forward to the Christmas when my dog ate my mom's cinnamon roll. But it also gave me some perspective. I've found one of my biggest flaws is how hastily I lose perspective. I forget to remember all the blessings in my life. The memories from when I was young, like my kids are now, are hardly possible to recall, but even as we age we forget things that happened last year and last week.

We wonder why our parents are so protective of us because we forget the millions of hours they poured into our lives to make sure we were well fed, educated, happy, healthy, wise, faithful, obedient. We wonder why people are jealous that we have siblings because we forget the nights at the dinner table that we laughed until we cried at the joke that only our family thought was funny. We cry out to God when we don't get what we want and ask why He's punishing us because we forget (or choose to forget) the thousands of blessings He has given us that He never had to. We hop on our expensive computer and post a Facebook status about how hard it is to have no money. We complain about the challenges of being parent and doing the very daily tasks that were done by our own moms and dads to shape us into who we are.

Of course, I know everyone has not had the same family and life experiences that I have. Some have more to be grateful for than others, but the one blessing we all share, whether we realize it or not, is God's mercy to us.

So, I guess my hope for this video project is a little perspective for my kids someday. I want them to remember how much their dad and I absolutely loved them even when we made mistakes. When they are tempted to play the victim I want them to remember the love that Christ has clearly shown to them their whole lives and to feel that deep thankfulness we rarely feel. I want them to remember how easily we forget.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, oh, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above