Life or Something Like It

Crack. Me. Up.

Crack.  Me.  Up.Crack. Me. Up.

This meme continually Crack. Me. Up.  I cannot stop laughing at this.

Seriously.  I may need an intervention.

Sometimes, in life, we need a little humor.  After 19 years of homeschooling (as of 2018), I have to find the humor in it because, frankly, I’m over homeschooling.

I do not say that in jest.  Homeschooling began out of fear for me.  This was a decision that my husband and I made after our local high school shooting.  Fear.  Straight up.  Not conviction, not religious reasons, no other reason than I was afraid for the life of me, then, one child.

Clearly, that didn’t work out well because I hated doing it and she hated learning.  We did put her in school and her sister for a hot minute.  That didn’t go well either, sadly.  It didn’t matter how involved I was with the school, how well I liked their teachers…it just didn’t go well.

We took them back out for a long period of time and then life happened.  Adoptions happened and it was time to try again.  This time we took a different route and put them in private school.  Uhm, well, mama and the “religious powers that be” did not play well in the sandbox together.  That was another horrible experience.

Finally, we brought them home again.  I had a different perspective, a different desire, they were excited to learn, and I was excited to teach, so here we are.  Timing is everything.  I’m blessed to have moved to an area where I have mad respect for the people at the board office.  I know several principals, teachers, substitute teachers, and more.  Now, if we choose to put them in school, it will be different.

Realistically, however, I’m also aware that I have 2 children that it would be a detriment to enroll them for several different reasons.  My third child is going to graduate in May and he is on it like Donkey Kong with his work.  I have another child that would be just fine, only he is the 1% race that just is not in my community.  Identity is a huge thing and I want him to be proud to be a strong, faith-filled boy of color.  I never want him to desire to be white.  Honoring his culture, his heritage, his beginnings are so important to us, as a family.

So here I sit, grading papers for the umpteenth time today.  I’m answering math questions, language questions, life questions…and so it goes.

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