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I’m sure you’re wondering why a woman with four children aged between babe-in-arms and ten-years-old would consider home education, let alone actually do it.
“It’s merry chaos with small people at home!”, you’re probably thinking but politely not articulating. At least not with this slightly hysterical combination of exclamation and question marks. “How will you find time for yourself?! Time to cook and feed the tribe?! What about your economic contribution to society?! Surely you should get a proper job at some point?! And, hang on, you’re not a trained teacher; how could you possibly teach all those children?! Finally, what about SOCIALISATION?!” **
May I reassure you that all of these questions were uttered in very hysterical tones at various points by my goodself.
But since my eldest child started school, the idea of home ed kept on popping into my mind or, more specifically, my heart (Maybe I should home school? Was the precise phrase).
Starting School Too Early
In the UK we have an education system that is very inflexible and somewhat of a conveyor belt. Children start school in reception class as young as 4 years and 1 day. Here, a particular academic cohort is defined by those born between the 1st of September one year and the 31st of August the following year e.g. those born between September 2014 & August 2015 would be in Year 1 now.
So, in one classroom are children born in the autumn who have had an extra year of life, an extra year at preschool, are often physically bigger and more developmentally advanced than those born in the summer. It used to be the case that kids could stay an extra term or two in preschool and not start until the term that they actually turn five.
However, this isn’t an option any more. Unless you have particularly dogged parents with the financial resources to pay for an educational psychologist to justify keeping a child in preschool for an extra year, these children have to start with their cohort. God forbid you’re a parent from a poorer background, with a child who really could do with an extra year of play. There’s no hope then.
Those of you reading this who live in countries such as America, Australia or continental Europe will be quite suprised by how early we start formal education here. Really, a more relaxed beginning at age 6 or even 7 would be better, also with flexibility on that date depending on the emotional readiness of the child. I agree.
My eldest was not ready for school. (Maybe I should home school?)
Not ready for an over-stimulating, busy classroom with thirty other raucous, albeit generally lovely, children. Not ready to sit quietly on the carpet when there was running and imaginary play to be done.
Not ready to be a grown-up in waiting when there was a childhood to live. I could see a hard shell encrusting a soft, sensitive soul, that might crush it one day. But what could I do? School is school is school. And we all have to do it if we are to succeed, right? I mean, I’d done it and done well at it. I was ABSOLUTELY FINE!
Or maybe not.
The School Run
I reeeeeeaaaallly struggled with the impact of the school day and calendar on family life. How, as a mother, I became an enforcer of school and its demands.
Hands up ANYONE who loves the school run. No one? Well, there’s a shock.
I was shouting, yelling, cajoling all the children to hurry up, eat up, get dressed, get ready, just go, go, go, GOOOOOOOOO! I was becoming ugly and shouty. No, in fact, I was ugly and shouty. Feeling this pressure to be on time, to avoid being chastised by the school for my public lateness, my inability to keep a functional show on the road… functional to the world outside however, not functional nor loving for the family. (Maybe I should home school?)
It was also fascinating, if frightening, how time just slipped through our fingers. The Groundhog-day repetitiveness of the school run gave a manic quality to the rhythm of the year and life sped up uncontrollably. Add to this activities after school with tired school children and even more tired toddlers and smaller people. During weekdays, my eldest only saw a grumpy, harranging mother, 7am-8.45am and then 3.15pm-7pm. But a mother who was very good at putting on a smiling face and chatting charmingly to the other parents and staff at school.
But not to my own children.
Grim. Grim. Grim.
(Maybe I should home school?)
We were all desperate for the holidays, when life became more organic, and we found each other again.
Clearly, on an emotional level, school was not really working. When we changed schools, things did improve on that score. And all was relatively well. Until…
* drum roll *
March 2020. Covid-19. Lockdown I.
(I’m writing this a week or two into Lockdown III. Or is it IV? Possibly even V. I don’t know anymore).
We all found ourselves at home, worried, confused and, on my part, frightened about the loss of education, about this dropping off the conveyor belt. Fortunately, the school was amazing, spun on a sixpence and starting sending work home to students and reassurance to parents. Phew! We were saved.
But then I realised something else…
The work the children had to do was all deeply uninteresting.
Now, before I proceed please note:
This is not an attack at teachers.
Teachers are ace. Teachers are incredible, committed and so very creative with what they do. I’m in awe. It’s just that education is political. And what the Department of Education demands of children through the National Curriculum, what arbitrary and restrictive standards children and teachers have to meet at particular junctions during a school career means…
… that what is taught is not very interesting. It can’t be interesting. Or if it is, there isn’t time to explore, go deeper and discover more interest and excitement.
The talents of teachers aren’t nourished, cultivated nor respected by our current flavour of government(s), which is a travesty. There are thirty or more pupils in a classroom of varying academic levels, emotional states, home environments, financial security etc etc, who all need to jump through one hoop. Quite a small hoop at that. And many don’t fit. And teachers are often powerless to do anything about it.
For example, the online maths programmes and workbooks for the children were quite… well, boring. Surely a subject that can convey the majesty of the universe, the beauty of a wave and the intellectual joy of quantum mechanics, much less the immediate importance of baking a cake for lots of people, could be made more interesting for small people? In addition (excuse the pun), spelling lists, grammar and linguistic information as well as limited topics were just not engaging. There were tears and rage, both on my part and that of my eldest, as we battled our way through it all.
The school work was also created by teachers for one particular year group that would be delivered in a classroom for several hours a day. It would be unreasonable to expect anything otherwise. Oddly enough, how to remote teach during a global pandemic was not a part of most teacher’s training!
However, as a result, it was impossible for me to give my school-age children the hours they would have had in a classroom, as well as keep an eye on and play with the smallest kids. As for keeping the house running and food on the table and trying my best not to lose the plot during a global pandemic? No bloomin’ way. Lord knows how working mothers were managing, if at all. This was not a sustainable set-up for anyone.
But back to the chaos at home during Lockdown… during one of my moments of rage, that phrase Maybe I should home school? Whispered in my mind again. To which I roared:
“THIS IS RUBBISH! I AM HOME SCHOOLING!!!!!!
To be continued ….
* This blogpost was first published late 2020 on my old blog, www.withsighs.com.
** Interestingly enough, “socialisation” is the biggest concern amongst those friends and family supporting Home Educating families; that the children won’t get enough interaction with other kids and will, therefore, grow up to become socially inept hermits and, therefore, a drain upon society’s resources, both financial and emotional.
I might exaggerate the worst-case scenario that is playing in people’s minds, but you get my drift. But I will just cut to the chase and let you know…
… none of this will happen. The children will be fine.
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