The First Day of No School

M was to begin preschool the day after Labor Day. Way back in the summer I planned that W and I would start school at home that day as well, September 3, even though the public school began August 28 for older kids. It made sense to me to start on the day his sister started, so he had my full attention and we could start off on the right foot. I figured W would enjoy a few extra summer days in the meantime-- the first little perk of our homeschool plan. 

But The First Day of School in town was W's first day of not going, and it was tough for him. In those first non school days he kept stopping me in my tracks with some of the things he said and did. I knew this was a big deal for him, it wasn't his choice to be homeschooled, and it was going to be an adjustment. But I think in all my positive vibes and optimistic anticipation, I had underestimated how much was going on inside of him over this transition.

August 28/T-minus 6 days until Homeschool
When he woke up on the first day of public school and (and several times the day before) he seemed lost in thought. I said, "What are you thinking about, buddy?"

"Everything."

...

We had an hour-long visit at M's preschool for her orientation on this day. (She attends preschool at a public school in our district, but not the school W had attended.) So W had to troop there along with us (side note: going to preschool orientation was a thrill for me, because in all the previous years my children had attended preschool, I had never been able to attend because I had to be teaching). While walking down the hallway for M's orientation, with the crisp new clothes and bright bulletin boards and new school year aura about the building, an adult who recognized W gave him a big smile and said hi, then said, "Are you missing your first day of school, W??"

...

Later that morning we stopped at the playground for a nice little picnic. Boy, was he mad at me. He hadn't been mad at me over the summer. The initial news last spring that we were planning to homeschool was a shock to him but he had seemed to adjust to the thought, with some reservations. He hadn't been mad at me all summer, but now it was August 28 and he was mad. He was giving me snide responses to things. He growled at me, "I should be in school. I've pinched myself ten times. I just feel so weird." 

"I'm sorry buddy, I know this is a big change. It's going to be okay. Remember, we decided to do this because we love you. We just want you to get the best education you can." 

"I was getting a fine education!" he snapped. "Did you hear Mrs. So and So at M's preschool?! I can't wait till 5th grade. I'm going back in 5th grade, right?? I never thought I'd want to go back to school, but I'll be so excited to go back to school." 

This was six days before beginning homeschool. Nothing had changed for him yet. But his peers had started school.
     
...

Later at home he was furious with me, something about carrots. How I cut them maybe? Or I picked some without him? I can't remember. But I remember telling him, "I understand you're mad at me. You can be mad at me right now. But please don't be mad at me about everything. Don't be mad at me about carrots." 

And he cooled down a bit and said, "I know, I'm sorry." 

...

That afternoon (still the first day of public school) we were in our yard. It was a sparkling summer afternoon. M was blowing bubbles, W was aimlessly shooting his plastic bow and arrow over and over. The school bus went by on its first afternoon run. I was trying to chat with W, since I've learned that in these moments where he's occupied with something mindless he's usually willing to open up and chat, or take in an idea, more than if I sat him down and said, look here. I thought I'd try to help him see the bright side, so he could focus less on this intense sense of feeling different that was pressing on him today. 

"Remember that with homeschool, we can learn about stuff you're interested in, besides the stuff we need to learn about, which we'll try to make fun..." I was trying to be very positive, trying to cuddle him with my words. "We could learn about cooking, or something about animals maybe--"

"Thanks for reminding me about cooking. That makes me excited for homeschooling."

Of course I couldn't stop there. I kept going, talking about being excited to challenge him, to go his speed. How even really good teachers can't do their best with every kid when there are 20 kids and kids who have a hard time with different things. He launched into a whole bunch of tales of times that classmates were really badly behaved or really stressed. Maybe for him this was just the random association that popped into his mind. But it felt there was some hint of his feeling that maybe that'll be nice to not have to be so distracted by all that.

I followed up on the happy cooking topic later. We brainstormed types of cooking he might like to get better at. "Desserts with fruit and French desserts! I'm really excited about that now. Thanks for talking about cooking and stuff." 

T-minus 5 Days
The next day when W woke up, he came stretching and yawning through the living room, talking as if we were already in mid-conversation as usual: "So, they're probably just finishing morning meeting now and going onto something else." No apparent moodiness or anger today, just matter of fact. But still defining himself by school, by what his peers were doing that he's missing. 

After thinking over the previous day and how out-of-sorts he had felt, I had realized maybe I should have planned some tasks for him to do on the first day of public school to focus him so he didn't feel like he was just playing hooky. I realized he had felt he was doing something wrong by being home and wanted to help boost his dignity about it today. I told him I knew it felt weird to not be at school yesterday, but that I had some work I needed him to do today: I needed him to do a little spelling test to help me make sure I knew what level he was starting at.

He took a deep breath, but I could hear the pride, anticipation, in his voice when he said, "It will be really weird to not have a spelling test [with words] like 'boat.' I’ve known how to spell 'boat' since first grade. It will be weird to be like 'What, how do you spell that?'"

We talked about how that might be a good feeling, to have to think. I resisted an angry speech at this heartbreaking comment about meaningless spelling tests of the past, and said something instead about how even good teachers struggle to meet everybody’s needs in a busy class of 20-plus, and sometimes they’re doing the best they can for everybody but it isn’t really meeting everybody’s needs, such as spelling words that are too easy for some kids. W said, so matter-of-factly and with greater acceptance than I'd like, that yes, they do stuff for the kids who have the hardest time, and yes, for so and so spelling 'boat' would be hard.

...

The kids and I went for a walk that day (another mindless activity great for good chats). I got him talking about the things that typically happen on the first days of school, and what he would like to happen on our first day. We agreed we’d make some hopes and “rules” we’d both agree to and sign it, but it needn’t take a long time like in school. He wanted to jump right in on the first day. He repeated his excitement about cooking sometimes during the school day, that that would be fun. 

T-4 days

My husband had taken the day off and the four of us had driven over to enjoy a favorite bike path in the White Moutains. Before we started, we did a quick hike up to an outlook with an impressive view. Nothing had been said yet that day about homeschool but I know that doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on inside. As we climbed back down the trail, I asked W how he was feeling today about stuff. He said he was feeling okay and that "I think I will really want to see my friends a lot more, like I will really be thinking about the next time I see them, like it will be a really big deal. Like I can't wait for O's birthday tomorrow, and like every soccer game and stuff like that." 

T-2 days 

That night after dinner W stood behind his dad, massaging his shoulders (seemingly just being generous; this was not an ordinary occurrence). He good-naturedly shared, “I was crying in my sleep last night. I thought my whole class moved away. I was like L's and B's mailboxes are gone! Then I woke up and I was like I don’t even know where they live!” He also said he dreamed he’d never see a certain classmate again, that he’d moved away "and had a big stick, maybe to move or push his stuff with." He followed up, quite sweetly, saying that doing that massaging was a way to take out his frustration that I’m homeschooling him! 

That night when I noted this conversation in a journal, I wrote, "I do believe we will love this year, and that you will be glad for it and feel differently after some time. But I recognize how big this is for you. It’s such a big change and there is so much going on inside of you-- dreaming of losing classmates who you don’t even play with or talk about much! But they represent that world you feel you are losing." 

~

W was pinching himself at the start of our homeschool experience because he was finding it surreal that he wasn't attending school on the first day with his friends. Meanwhile, I was pinching myself because I couldn’t believe I get to have so much more time this year to be with my kids and help them get better at things without any external forces standing in my way. I get to do what is most important to me right now. I can not possibly understand how life-changing this year is for W. But he helped to show me, especially in those memorable lead-up days. I vowed then to try to have so much patience with him (and I have to renew this vow to myself frequently).

The first days of homeschool once we got started were eventful, too. There was some whining to be sure, and some fascination with the novelty of it all. W surprised me when, after we dropped his sister off at preschool the first day, he wanted a first-day-of-school picture of himself taken sitting on the stairs to our "loft" since that is where we planned to have our work home base be this year.

Over two months in now, he's not so angry. Some of the pros of our lifestyle have become clearer to him and I don't think he thinks a great deal about what's happening at school. Just this week one morning as we were getting ready to leave the house to go volunteer at the humane society for the first time and W was beside himself with anticipation about it, he said, "Mommy I know when I'm mad at you I say I don't like homeschool but I just say that 'cause I'm frustrated. I really love it at times like this. Thanks for setting this up for me."