You turned five a few weeks ago (for the sake of the continuity of these letters I will shout, "five?! What?!" in stunned disbelief) and this year has held a few huge milestones. You became a big sister this year and everyone keeps telling me that pretty soon you're going to be over it, and the shine will wear off and you'll be jealous or despise your sister (people are so nice!) and there's just not the slightest sign of that at all. You ADORE Emma. You are the best big sister ever, and we couldn't be prouder of you. You're helpful and sweet and funny and Emma grins at you all the time. The other day she did a big belly laugh for the very first time, and it was just because you smiled at her. You did it again and again and it was perfect, watching the two of you laugh together. I'm so happy God decided to give us Emma, not just for us, but for you.
The other big thing is that we decided to homeschool you and we have begun your first week. There is currently a terrible teachers strike in our province so I suppose everyone is homeschooling but we are doing so intentionally. Like so many things we go through together, I am scared and you are excited and eager. I am sure I will fail, and you are encouraging me that "I'm so happy you're my teacher, Mama. You're going to be amazing at this." Seriously? You're the best kid ever.
Firstly, let me get on record that I'm not the average homeschooling mom. Not the ones I envision anyway. There are two (well lots, but two major) obstacles in the way of my being a good teacher.
1. I am impatient.
2. I was terrible at school myself. I feel like this is the blind leading the blind.
I also don't sew, make my own granola, or know how to make a bento box with a nutritious lunch that is also a scene from the Amazon jungle for our Amazon unit study. I am not THAT mom.
There are a couple of huge reasons why we wanted to homeschool you.
1. I love watching you learn something. It's one of my favorite parts of being a mom, and call me selfish, but I didn't want to hand off that privilege to someone else. The moment when you get something and you look up at me and you're so proud of yourself is one of your best expressions, and you have a few.
2. Kindergarten here went full-time a few years back and it seems to me that five years old (just barely five!) is too young to be away from me for the equivalent of a full-time job. Well maybe not here, but in places like France those are totally full-time hours. See! I'm teaching you stuff already! Remember: get your first job in France. Because the hours are good, and well, macarons. Also, I'm coming with because you may not move so far away and also to help you eat the cookies. Anyway, when you figure out the schedule of public school, the school gets you for all your best hours. I get all my least favorite things about being a mom:
-breakfast and getting out the door in a hurry.
-the afternoons when you're tired but it's too late to nap.
-dinner, bath, and getting ready for bed.
The only nice thing I'm getting is bedtime cuddles and the weekends and I'm telling you buddy, that is LAME! It feels like a custody arrangement. Evenings and weekends.
So I'm being selfish with you simply because you're mine and I can do it right now. I haven't got much against public education, other than my own experience and the ridiculous notion that a kindergarten child and a grade 12 student require the same amount of classroom time.
You're smart buddy. You taught yourself to read - so much for patting myself on the back for that one. You do things all the time that amaze us all, and I'm proud of you. I'm so happy that I have this time to spend with you. I want to say that we are going to rock this year together and this is going to be MY THING. I'm going to be a rock star homeschooling mom. I'm guessing that the truth looks a little more like this:
I love you. I think this is the best thing for you. I want to try. I promise to try to be more patient and to ask Jesus to make me into the kind of mom that you need me to be, and not just the kind of mom who can make granola. (I really want to learn to make granola.) We're probably going to have a couple of fights and I'm probably going to think I was crazy to ever try this in the first place. You're probably going to wish at some point that I'd just sent you to school. But I love you. I want this for you, this time with you to teach you and watch you learn and grow. We'll figure it out. We always do.
The other big thing is that we decided to homeschool you and we have begun your first week. There is currently a terrible teachers strike in our province so I suppose everyone is homeschooling but we are doing so intentionally. Like so many things we go through together, I am scared and you are excited and eager. I am sure I will fail, and you are encouraging me that "I'm so happy you're my teacher, Mama. You're going to be amazing at this." Seriously? You're the best kid ever.
Firstly, let me get on record that I'm not the average homeschooling mom. Not the ones I envision anyway. There are two (well lots, but two major) obstacles in the way of my being a good teacher.
1. I am impatient.
2. I was terrible at school myself. I feel like this is the blind leading the blind.
I also don't sew, make my own granola, or know how to make a bento box with a nutritious lunch that is also a scene from the Amazon jungle for our Amazon unit study. I am not THAT mom.
There are a couple of huge reasons why we wanted to homeschool you.
1. I love watching you learn something. It's one of my favorite parts of being a mom, and call me selfish, but I didn't want to hand off that privilege to someone else. The moment when you get something and you look up at me and you're so proud of yourself is one of your best expressions, and you have a few.
2. Kindergarten here went full-time a few years back and it seems to me that five years old (just barely five!) is too young to be away from me for the equivalent of a full-time job. Well maybe not here, but in places like France those are totally full-time hours. See! I'm teaching you stuff already! Remember: get your first job in France. Because the hours are good, and well, macarons. Also, I'm coming with because you may not move so far away and also to help you eat the cookies. Anyway, when you figure out the schedule of public school, the school gets you for all your best hours. I get all my least favorite things about being a mom:
-breakfast and getting out the door in a hurry.
-the afternoons when you're tired but it's too late to nap.
-dinner, bath, and getting ready for bed.
The only nice thing I'm getting is bedtime cuddles and the weekends and I'm telling you buddy, that is LAME! It feels like a custody arrangement. Evenings and weekends.
So I'm being selfish with you simply because you're mine and I can do it right now. I haven't got much against public education, other than my own experience and the ridiculous notion that a kindergarten child and a grade 12 student require the same amount of classroom time.
You're smart buddy. You taught yourself to read - so much for patting myself on the back for that one. You do things all the time that amaze us all, and I'm proud of you. I'm so happy that I have this time to spend with you. I want to say that we are going to rock this year together and this is going to be MY THING. I'm going to be a rock star homeschooling mom. I'm guessing that the truth looks a little more like this:
I love you. I think this is the best thing for you. I want to try. I promise to try to be more patient and to ask Jesus to make me into the kind of mom that you need me to be, and not just the kind of mom who can make granola. (I really want to learn to make granola.) We're probably going to have a couple of fights and I'm probably going to think I was crazy to ever try this in the first place. You're probably going to wish at some point that I'd just sent you to school. But I love you. I want this for you, this time with you to teach you and watch you learn and grow. We'll figure it out. We always do.
