My kids started school today… 11th, 9th, and 4th grades, respectively. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not their teacher.
The choice to enroll our kids in traditional School was painful but obvious… I spent Spring and Summer spinning in anxious circles attempting to prep & plan another homeschool year, considering different co-ops, scenarios, and models, but never had a lick of peace until it hit me like a thunderbolt in early August. We enrolled our kids in the same private Christian school where Firstborn attended kindergarten and first-grade, back when I was still too scared to homeschool. It feels providential that she’ll finish her last two years where she started her first two. As a high school junior, she was seeking a better bridge between homeschool and college, and all of her best homeschool pals have dispersed in different directions. So that left our high school freshman and fourth-grader to comprise our homeschool, which felt disjointed and incomplete, especially with a co-op that was decimated by Covid (enrollment went from 15 families to 2 families in a year). Long ago, Husband and I committed to making the best individual choices for their unique school needs– each kid and each year. I’ve said it a million times, but I’m forever grateful for the freedom to choose the best path for their education.
Though Firstborn forgot her lunch the first day they all made it on time; meanwhile, the house feels big and empty but I’ve only cried once and have made it to the gym two days in a row. I’m navigating the complicated school drop-off line and the kids report they like it so far. I’m pretty proud of them.