It’s a weird day to be a homeschooler since my town starts school today. My Facebook and Twitter feeds will fill up with posts about bus-stop waving (and/or the high-fiving that some parents do as the bus drives away), public invites to meet for coffee (without the kids), and lots of talk about school/jitters/teachers and dreaded homework assignments.
I’ve accepted that our lives are different, though I can’t help but wonder what this day would be like if my kids did go to school.
It’s 7:15am, and I’m pretty certain everyone would already be down in the kitchen, bleary eyed and nervous. I’d be taking breakfast orders, telling Belly that she must eat something more than a glass of orange juice, even with her stomach in knots.
I’d already be “borrowing” money from their allowance pouches to cobble together exact change for lunch. But, as I write this, I wonder if they have some newfangled system like pre-paid lunch cards—how out of touch am I?
I’d probably have the oven timer going so I could get the kids to the bus on time. Jilly and Belly would both be in the upper elementary school in town, as Jilly is entering third and Belly fifth. Jilly would be super excited, babbling on about the bus ride and who she knows in her class. Belly would be unusually quiet.
After driving them down the street to their noisy, neighborhood-friend-filled bus (it’s raining today, otherwise, I’d insist we walk), I’d return home with D for a little while until his turn came. We’d make sure his backpack is all set, maybe watch a few minutes of his favorite cartoon, and then—BEEP BEEP—my timer would go off again, and we’d go to the car.
And then I’d take him down to the same bus stop and watch my new first grader climb on board the big yellow bus, and I’d wave and cry as he drives away. This would be his first full day in school, since our kindergartens are still half-day.
I’d get back in the car and come home to an empty house. There would be beds to make, breakfast dishes to wash, a load of laundry to do. I’d throw myself into work, hoping to pick up more writing here and there to keep myself busy while the kids are in school.
I’d have to set the timer again to remember when the buses return.
You can call me crazy for homeschooling—and there are times I’d agree—but on a day like this, I am so happy that our reality is so very different.
Even if I can’t meet you for coffee today without the kids.
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