I Had Other Plans--Notes for a Future Resume

"It's not the money, or even the time. It is simply that I had other plans."

from "On Spectrum: My Daughter, Her Autism, Our Life" by Sallie Tisdale in the April 2010 issue of Harpers Magazine. The essay deals with parenting a handicapped child well into adulthood at the expense of the mother's professional and personal plans. The essay made me think of the tough choices women make when they decide to home-educate their children and back-burner their professional life. The circumstances of homeschooling mothers are different; however, just like Sally Tisdale, many "had other plans."

In the years since I began home-educating my son, working women in my circle of family and friends have advanced in their professions from associate to partner, from teacher to assistant principal, from untenured to tenured, from unpublished to published, from little nobody to management. I think about that often as I print up math drills, correct Latin translation--Sumus poetae et estis nautae--and learn about the American presidents. And I think about it, sometimes all night long, whenever I've been in the company of someone who does not think much of homeschooling and has let me know exactly just how low their opinion is of homeschooling in general and my doing it in particular.

It always hurts. It hurts for a variety of reasons. I can never help but feel that my mental health and my love of my son are being questioned. I must be homeschooling due to an excess of narcissism and a lack of love for Simon. Better parents would make better choices.

Usually I can let those feelings go. There's nothing like homeschooling to help one learn just how conventional and careful most of the people in your life are. And scared. If they're not doing what everyone else is doing, something terrible will happen, or so they believe.

The other reason that a dismissive comment about homeschooling hurts is that I've become darn good at it, and it's what I do for many hours of every day. It's what I am--a homeschooling mom. I, too, had other plans. But for now they are on hold to teach Simon to read, to write, to add and multiply, and to keep him out of the classrooms meant for atypical children: the ubiquitous behavioral classroom, the learning disabilities classroom, the ADHD classroom, the autism spectrum classroom, the pervasive developmental disorder classroom, etc. One of those classrooms would have Simon's name on it. None of those classrooms has a commitment to preparing the kids in their care for a future that involves a profession or a trade--forget grad school. These classrooms merely exist to allow the other teachers in that school to better teach all the other children--every child but mine.

Like so many homeschooling mothers, I could have spent these last years doing something out there in the world, running something, anything: a classroom, a department, a company, an organization, a school, a small country. Instead, I've spent the time at the end of a cul-de-sac in Miami learning with my son about Perseus, percents, photosynthesis and President Lincoln.

Soon this time will come to an end. Simon will decide he really wants to go to school, because schools have girls and AP history and science fairs, or he will do high school with us while attending a community college and taking online courses. He's beginning sixth grade in the fall. Within a few years, his schooling will be an independent endeavor, whether he's home-schooled or not. I will be able to go back to work.

What do I put on my resume for this decade--this lost decade?

What follows are some very informal brainstorming notes to revisit when it's time to shape a formal resume:

I haven't killed my son.

I've gotten pretty impatient on various occasions and, when the spirit is weak, will do so again. Some things are not easy for Simon. Sometimes he doesn't get it on the first try, or the second. But over the years, I've learned that every time I raise my voice, every time my words quivers with frustration and anger, I lose him to anxiety and fear. Nothing--absolutely nothing--is accomplished with impatience. I've learned to breathe when the going gets tough. "Silly Mommy has obviously not taught you this well enough. Let's try again tomorrow." Along the way, I've learned to teach.

Note: In a future interview, be prepared to discuss in detail what it is exactly that good teachers do.

I haven't killed friends and family.

My experience has been that outside of friends who are artists, ex-teachers, or university professors, nobody has been supportive of homeschooling, although over time I've worn almost everyone down into polite silence.

Homeschooling is something poor uneducated evangelicals do who've never been to Paris or New York--why would you want to go anywhere near that? So they say.

Last summer, my father said to me: "You haven't done anything with your life."

Tough stuff.

Lonely work.

Note: Remember to weave into interview that college professors love to have homeschooled kids in their classes. Homeschoolers read novels all the way through. They actually do the assigned work. 1 out of 3 homeschooled kids who apply get accepted to first and second tier schools. The numbers for the rest of the population are 1 out of 8.

I haven't killed anyone in the homeschooling community.

Most of us spend our lives in our little cocoons among people more or less like us. Once you homeschool and take your child to a park or enrichment group, your're out there among people with whom you share very little other than a fierce commitment to homeschooling. It is hard work to find common ground if initial greetings expand into a conversation. But it can be done.

Note: For interview be prepared to tell funny stories about meeting homeschoolers. Highlight the many times your own preconceptions were wrong.

I'm still here--with a smile no less.

These have been some of the happiest years of my life. Every week I see progress. Every week my work shows results. I never feel like I'm working just for a (nonexistent) pay-check. Every action has a purpose. I can function in utter unsupported solitude for as long as there is a purpose to my work, and the work makes a difference.

I know who Procrustes is, and so much more, so don't mess with me.

I have learned and re-learned a formidable amount of information: Greek mythology, world and American history, Latin, German, math, the minutia of grammar. I can learn anything. And then I can teach it. And then I can write about it.

I'm the decider.

Most years I haven't chosen a boxed curriculum. I study what the requirements and expectations are. I go to conventions, the library, the internet. I talk to Simon. Then I decide what books we should use. The buck stops here.

If it doesn't work, I pitch it.

If I'm not happy with how much progress Simon is making, I re-evaluate. I've often made mid-course corrections, or halted our journey through a math program for many weeks to drill certain skills.

I'm flexible and willing to concede a decision I made is not working. I can keep my eye on the ball. Results matter. Teaching Simon to write essays and getting him to read 300 page books--that matters. Compliance with a plan does not.