This is our last year of home school. Next year he goes to public high school. I dread it. I have loved the closeness of being able to teach him the last 2.5 years. I wish I had made this choice sooner. It isn't so much a fear of the unknown or his growing up, though I do notice those things, as it is simply I will miss him. I love teaching. I went to college for Early Education so teaching him has been fun. It has been exciting. I have loved every aspect of it.
Has it been time consuming? Yes it has. I tend to follow a curriculum outline more than an actual curriculum. Meaning I would look up what the requirements were for that grade level in our home state, then our current state. I would then take these and form a plan for the year. If one was doing biology in 8th grade and the other state was doing something different, I would try to incorporate both through out the year. Since we weren't a classroom we didn't have to review every minute detail from the previous years and this saved us time. I can also do a rock unit one month and cells the next if I want to. So I spend a lot of my time researching lesson plans, finding worksheets, video's, and buying the books we want to use for certain lessons.
In addition to that there's the time I have spent learning things. I was terrible at Algebra. I have had to learn Algebra to explain Algebra. Sometimes I failed, we both cried tears of frustration then the next day hit the video lessons again. Or found the odd resource that helped one or both of us "get it". Sometimes I surprise myself with how much knowledge I am gaining. Did I really learn that in school? I don't remember it. So it's new knowledge now. I have discovered I love history! Seriously. It is a lot more fun as an adult than a student. I say this with personal experience because no matter how much enthusiasm I bring to the table my son is still not a fan of Algebra or History.
Yet, there are certain aspects of high school I anticipate with joy. I secretly (guess not a secret now) enjoy my own private down time. I relish in it. I read books. I play with graphic arts. I write. I had high hopes to release a new series this year.
What I have actually accomplished towards this goal? The second story is done. The first is still in the early stages of getting fleshed out on paper. It should have released already and instead I find I just don't have the time. What time I do have is so full of noise I can't focus or concentrate. I am one of those writers that needs peace and quiet to focus. I love a sleeping household. Except they eventually wake up. So there is a part of me that knows I can't beat myself up this year.
Spring and Summer are around the corner. We already have a couple of things planned that are going to take time. I have to get my house ready for company. I am excited about all of these things but it means less time to write. I just have to find my acceptance of this and do what I can, knowing in the back of my mind..."next year". I will be sad. I will probably hide to cry some. Then I will put on my sweats and get to work. Life will slow down. If it doesn't I will at least have carved out a little space for me in it.