Time To Not Go Back To School Again

So it's that time of year again, and everyone is asking when I plan on starting.  I ask them, "Are you referring to when I plan on starting not sending my kids back to school?"  The response is rarely a laugh, and usually a sincere, "Yes, when do you start homeschool, before or after Labor day?"

This seasonal conversation highlights one of the biggest differences in mindset of a homeschooling mom and a non-homeschooling mom.  Homeschooling is about integration of life and learning.  It is about natural, organic if you will, education.  It is education not defined by any parameters, not least of which is dates and time.  Which is why it is also difficult to answer to the question of "how much time each day do you spend homeschooling?"  It is as if we speak different languages.  I don't have any set dates, or set times, when learning occurs as opposed to not learning.  Vacation and work are intertwined.  We homeschool all year, and 24 hours each day.  And yet none of those hours is anything like school at all.

"When are you starting?" is a question that reminds me how different homeschooling is from regular school.  I don't usually have an official start date for not sending my kids back to school.  In our lifestyle, summer and fall flow seamlessly into each other, as do all the other seasons.  Usually, what will happen is, one day, sometimes well into September, I will notice that all my kids are home, some playing chess while some are coloring.  I might marvel at the temporary serenity and calmness in an otherwise hectic day, and that moment of pause will make me realize that indeed I am homeschooling my kids.  So maybe that is my official start day.  But how do you explain that to someone who wants a quick answer?  I guess the quick answer is, sometime after Labor Day.

Lessons Learned From My Grandmother

It has been almost six months since I lost my beloved grandmother.  My mind has still not completely digested that she is gone.  There are moments when I reach for the phone to call her, to tell her something I know she would appreciate.  It came as a surprise how much I miss telling her every Friday what I cooked for Shabbat.  Less surprising is how bittersweet good news has become, without being able to share it with her.

There were some questions I never got to ask her.  I have always wondered if she was happy with some of her choices in life, and if she would have done things differently if she could do it over.  There are questions that I never would have asked her, because she would have considered them foolish.  She would have said, what is the point of wondering what could have been?  She taught me to accept your lot even while trying to improve it.  She taught me that life doesn't have to be what you want for you to be happy, and people don't have to be perfect for you to love them.  She taught me that love and happiness are a choice  you make, not something that happens to you.

She was the strongest woman I have ever known.  As a young teenager, she escaped Nazi Germany barely in time, and moved with her parents and brother to Australia.  She left everything and everyone she ever knew behind, but she never looked back.  Then, when her idealism brought her to America, she again left everything and everyone she knew behind.  She never expressed any regret, and accepted her difficulties without any negativity.  This is the greatest lesson she taught me, to always forge ahead, with a smile in your heart, and never look back.

There were times when she guided me through my own difficulties.  She would always tell me not to be so emotional, and to focus on what needs to be done.  She would remind me to see the positive in every situation, and to count my blessings.

In recent years, I noticed a hint of questions in her eyes and voice.  But she never let those questions out, and they never affected her actions or her belief.  In her silence, she answered some of my questions. She taught me that you can believe, and you can love, and you can be certain, even while you have unanswered questions.

I wish she was here right now.  She would tell me to stop being so emotional.  And to count my blessings.