Mix me a spritzer and cue the Barry Manilow…the time has come. As I sit beside the blow-up pool in my backyard, sipping equal parts chardonnay and pineapple seltzer, I hear Barry singing softly in my ears, “Looks like we made it.” (PS I was today years old when I realized that the rest of the song consists of dirty 70’s sex lyrics.) Here at Oz Academy for Fine Young Boys, we have officially completed our first year of homeschooling and it looks like we made it. How did we do? Well, you know I’m ‘bout to tell you all about it.
We started this journey because there was no way that my one-eared, hard of hearing Nugget was going to survive in a world of masks. Not only did he struggle just to wear one (because one needs two ears for those things…) but he needs to see lips move to know who’s talking. It became quickly apparent that if the entire school was masked-up, 2nd grade would be a wash for him. For clarification- I’m absolutely not anti-mask. In fact, I’ve relished the opportunity masks have provided for me to literally tell the world to ‘suck it’ behind the safety of my Wonder Woman face covering for the past year. And when this fat girl broke her front tooth on a chicken wing and was too scared of COVID to go to the dentist for 4 months, I loved that no one aside from those in my household had a clue. (ICYMI – here’s the tale) But when decisions were being made last summer, I knew we had to take the plunge. And, in our family, if we plunge one, we plunge all, so Number 1 came along too. (Middle school has been my jam for about 20 years so he was covered.)
Still, walking away from the system we’ve all known was hard. I’ve been a teacher for a lot of years, in a lot of places and in a lot of subjects over the years. In that time, I’ve developed some pretty granola crunchy ideas and philosophies about how to teach. Those crunchy ideas got reaffirmed as I dipped my toe into the public-school systems and watched special ed kids like my Nugget get shoved into the corners. If I was ever going to put my philosophies to the test, COVID was providing an opportunity, but I wasn’t sure if I had the cajones to take it. Could we really learn at home? Would they drive me insane? Did I have the ability to teach every subject? Would my kids turn into total freaks? I mean, with this weirdo for a mother, their freak quotient was already high. Most of all, would they resent the fact that I chose to experiment with an entire year of their educational lives?(Due to their crazy Turkish father, whose warning for everything is, ‘You do that and you can die.’ I’ve been building up therapy funds since birth so I was covered if they did.)
Well, I am pleased to say that this year was a smashing success and totally worth it. We spent hours on Cape Cod chasing seals and exploring salt marshes. We investigated Egypt by mummifying Barbies and making death masks. We researched their Ottoman heritage, built up Turkish vocab and learned their genetic link to Genghis Khan. (Which explained so much.) We dissected lobsters and owl pellets, measured the sizes of whales down our driveway and blew up lots of things – sometimes intentionally. We identified turds in our yard (fox, in case you were curious) and built Spartan helmets. We modeled the feudal system with Skittles and learned to make stuffed grape leaves. We hiked bogs and built catapults, wrote ridiculous tales and researched politics. We watched Young Frankenstein and read Mary Shelley. We studied chemical reactions and made Periodic table trading cards. Nugs went from reading below grade level at the end of 1st grade to reading way above grade level and Number 1 read more novels than he has in his life and actually enjoyed it. They had book-talks with Aunties and practiced Turkish with family. And while Number 1 mastered pre-Algebra, Nugs went from not quite getting addition in his sped math class to starting multiplication with Mom. We. Kicked. Ass. And we did twice the work in half the time.
There were also days I wanted to set them on fire. At least once a month I threatened to call a sub – their father – because I couldn’t stand them anymore. (As Number 1 said, “There is absolutely nothing worse than Baba helping with math Mom. Nothing.” They can’t even imagine how bad it would be to have him teach English since he’s still working on it himself.) There were freezing winter days I made them go outside because they were asshats and I dealt with constant panic that I wasn’t doing enough. I haven’t peed alone since before COVID and there was literally never a break. I’m far more exhausted than after a year at school, but…it was worth it. I got to stop time. I got to spend extra time with my babies before they’re teenagers. I got to snuggle and read books in front of the fire on winter afternoons and teach my kids favorite lessons from my own years of teaching. I got to have picnics on the beach on a weekday and sleep a little later every morning. Most of all, we made our already tight bond even tighter.
As the world creeps towards normal, decisions had to be made. After three years on a wait-list, Number 1 got into an awesome charter school for 8th grade. He was nervous to accept the offer but he’s excited too. I’ve decided to stay out of school for a little while longer because Nugs and I are doing it again. After comparing the progress he made homeschooled versus traditional school there was no contest. Teaching your own kids all subjects is a butt ton more work than teaching one subject to 200 middle schoolers, but it’s way more fun. It’s not for the faint of heart but if your liver can handle the wine it takes and your patience is epic, I highly recommend homeschooling. But maybe check with me again after a year alone with my ADHD super spaz, just to be sure. Until then, Barry and I will be by the pool or maybe at the Copacabana, spritzer in hand.
Laughter Is Better Than Prozac 