The Beautiful Mess of Homeschool

Friends, I’ve got to tell you something about myself: I don’t function well in the midst of messes. Ok, truth be told, I can hardly function at all when things are messy. Instead of focusing on one task and seeing it through to completion, I zip from one out-of-place item to another, trying to set it all right before remembering what I started out to do.

For example, I’ll start to make lunch for my hungry children, but then I’ll see several containers of expired leftovers in the fridge, cram the scraps into the garbage, take out the overflowing trash, then try to load the empty containers into the dishwasher only to realize it’s still full of clean dishes. So, naturally, I unload the dishes and load the dirty ones, except the sink area also has a bunch of clutter around it, so I have to organize all that. On my way put away the clutter, I find about 37 more piles of toys, clothes, dishes, pillows, and books, and I can’t walk past them. I get caught in a frantic loop of grabbing and sorting, darting from pile to pile until my kids melt down from hunger, at which point I remember telling them I’d make lunch an hour ago.

I’m sure there are a few names for this condition, but the most common one is “motherhood.”

Homeschool: How My Journey Began

All right, as long as I’m in confession mode, I may as well mention that I was never the motherly type to begin with. I was happy being single, but then I got married. I was happy without kids, but then I had two. I was looking forward to sending them to school, but then I decided to homeschool. What’s the moral of the story? I may think I know what will bring me true joy, but God knows better.

I got my degree in teaching secondary English and enjoyed teaching high school for 11 years, but I’ve never once been tempted to teach elementary. Conveying the basics is far more intimidating to me than expounding on Shakespeare or tackling physics formulas. But when my husband and I started weighing the benefits of sending them to a good Christian school versus teaching them at home, the choice became clear. Homeschooling was the only affordable option that didn’t include my working a full-time job to pay for their school. So long, dreams of quiet weekdays full of tidy productivity.

What to Choose, What to Choose

If you’ve looked into homeschool curricula at all, you know there are roughly a gazillion options to choose from. Which method? Which resources? Which co-op? Which books? Which lifestyle? Which sad beige children’s clothing for my Instagram feed? To say the choices are overwhelming is an understatement. So, naturally, I began to research shortly after my son was born. Remember, having things organized is my happy place—even when those things are choices that loom five years down the road.

I settled on a classical approach because it’s time-tested and thorough. Then I narrowed it down to Classical Conversations because they’ve got the curriculum all laid out with songs, cycles, and community co-ops. Lastly, I suckered a good friend into joining a local co-op with me, and I haven’t looked back since. I mean, it’s only been eight weeks, but still. No regrets.

My Ideal Approach

I spent the summer planning, researching, printing, organizing, and generally stressing about the start of the school year. The Classical Conversations program begins when kids are four—the age when they enjoy memorizing and learning but can’t sit still for more than 12 minutes. That’s not a joke; it’s a fact, Jack. A fact which I disregarded when designing my son’s three-hour homeschool schedule, broken down into 15- or 30-minute increments. A fact which he proved when my beautiful, laminated plan went to pot on day one.

I had envisioned a joyfully-structured day, my son shifting from subject to subject with focus and flexibility. I thought our dining room table would be a hub of education and delight, the sunshine pouring onto our books, worksheets, and manipulatives like the smile of God. I pictured my two year old happily playing with the all the educational toys and crafts I would set out for her while my son diligently memorized Latin vocabulary and all 161 history timeline events. In short, I expected order.

Instead, I’ve experienced chaos.

The Messy Reality

The thing is, our typical day looks nothing—and I mean nothing—like my ideal. We do start with Bible stories and breakfast, but I’m actually not eating because my toddler has shunned her three-course meal in favor of sitting on my lap and shoving both her fists into my oatmeal-and-yogurt bowl. She’s very tactile. I move on to discussing the character trait of the week. Invariably, my toddler knocks over her unspillable cup of honey tea. It spills.

I mop that up while she grabs everything else with her hands gloved in oatmeal. I wipe all that up too. (Hang on, my eye is twitching again.) I try to keep us on track by singing the hymn of the week over my shoulder while I wash her hands in the kitchen sink. By now, my son’s attention is waning because the cleaning took so long, and we haven’t even started the actual lessons yet.

Guys, this is not fiction. It’s, like, every. Single. Day. You fellow homeschoolers know exactly what I’m talking about. (And if you don’t, please shoot me a message and tell me what on earth I’m doing wrong.)

Worth the Stress and the Mess

And yet I wouldn’t trade these hours for weekdays alone—not for five glorious, silent, tidy weekdays with the house all to myself…

Sorry I got distracted for a minute there. I was about to say how thankful I am for the chance to be stressed at home with my beautiful children. And I really do mean that. Quite honestly, I love them way, way more than I’d ever thought possible. Even when she sticks her fists in my oatmeal. Even when he scribbles all over the worksheet instead of drawing a straight line from A to the apple. Even when I’m short circuiting about the sheer caliber of disaster in nearly every room on the house.

Yes, even then, because homeschooling—like life—isn’t about attaining perfection. Demanding perfection of yourself will give you ulcers, and expecting it of your kids will give you twice the ulcers, three times as fast. It will also make them really frustrated. Instead, life is about knowing God and making Him known (which happens to be the Classical Conversation motto). For now, I get to make Him known to my two feral offspring. And God daily uses their mess and my stress to show me just how desperately I need Him.   So even when homeschooling is a mess, I pray that God will help me focus on what matters most. There are moments of grace in the midst of the mess, and I don’t want to miss them.