How to Decide Between Homeschool and Public School

My daughter wants to go to public school.

I know this, because she made her intentions known last week. Mustering all the strength that her five-year-old frame could handle, she pushed her plate away from the dinner table, stood up on her chair, and proclaimed, "I want to go to school." Then, she promptly sat down again, pulled her plate towards her, and began eating her broccoli.

Chomp, chomp, chew, chew. End of discussion.

But was it? My husband and I paused to consider this notion. We, of course, had anticipated this moment, but we certainly were surprised by the timing. The school year was, after all, almost over.

We weren't completely surprised. After four years of homeschooling, we have side-stepped numerous school-related hurdles. In fact, our first emotional rollercoaster began three years ago, when our son insisted that he attend "real school". We struggled, argued, and cried; finally, we gave in to the system, and registered him in the local elementary school. That lasted only a year.

Armed with that knowledge, I was reluctant to send another child into the public school system. It was a delicate situation. My daughter and son are individuals, with different feelings and emotions. I wanted to encourage my daughter to express her feelings; and I wanted to gently let her down.

But my eight-year-old son had other ideas.

"Why would you want to go to school?" he laughed. "Do you know what happens at school?"

"No," she answered. Her ears perked up at once.

"It's awful!" he admonished. "One: you have to be quiet all day. Two: you have to sit down and write at your desk. Three: you aren't allowed to leave the classroom. Four: you have to listen to the teacher talk. Five: then you have to raise your hand every time you have a question..."

"Every time?"

"Every time!"

"I can do that." Her answer was met with laughter. Our daughter is not quiet, nor is she patient. After all, she's just like her mom. Raising her hand to speak would definitely not work.

"There's more!" my son continued. "Do you know how long you have to stay in school?"

"How long?"

"Three hours! If you're lucky. But when you start first grade, you have to stay for six-and-a-half hours. That's almost a whole day!"

"Wow!" She contemplated that for a moment. "How long is three hours?"

He laughed. "From lunchtime until four o'clock."

"That long?" Her jaw dropped.

"Yeah."

"Well, never mind then."

And that was the end of the discussion. We finished our dinner, cleaned up, and joked around. We continued our normal evening activities. And I haven't heard another word about it. The subject has been dropped.

Since then, I wonder if all homeschooling parents struggle with their decision. September haunted me for several years. Every time that golden bus turned the corner, I was wracked with guilt: Did I make the right choice? Am I damaging my children? Am I affecting their social abilities?

My family and friends weren't very helpful. They expressed concern over their social development; one family member adamantly insisted that we should want our children to be "normal". Fearing for his life (this is my first child, after all), I gave in to peer pressure. I immediately enrolled him in school, so he could "socialize". Relieved, I reminded myself that he had the chance to socialize with other children, and have a professional focus on his educational needs.

I learned a lot that year. I learned that socialization is over-rated. School didn't "socialize" my child. In fact, it "anti-socialized" him in some ways. He learned that he couldn't speak unless he raised his hand and was called upon. For months, he raised his hand every time he wanted to speak---at the dinner table, at the store, at the pool. He learned that unnecessary talking results in a punishment. We still have to prod him to express his feelings. He learned that he shouldn't ask questions, because the teacher "had 23 other children in the classroom, and couldn't help everyone." He also learned to speak in slang, and use improper English.

On a personal level, I enjoyed the professional educators. On a professional level, however, I was highly disappointed. My son was entertained in class, but he certainly was not educated. Day after day, he came home in tears, sick to his stomach. Each morning, I would drag my crying son to school. He was bored to tears. Literally.

Teacher's conferences were futile. The educators insisted that he was "in the highest level class", that the school "did not have a gifted and talented program", and that they "didn't believe in putting children in a higher grade." They agreed to increase the difficulty of the lessons, but it never happened.

Finally, the reading teacher proclaimed that he was already at the highest reading level in the class. She admitted: "We aren't going to teach him reading this year at all." "At all?" I repeated, shocked. "At all," she said.

That was the final straw. I threw up my hands in vain, marched down to the office, and withdrew him from school that day. The stomach pains disappeared. The tears have gone away.

We've haven't looked back since.

Now, I've come full circle. I realize that my daughter may have dreams of public school. But I have experienced this emotional roller coaster, and I know how it ends. I know that the grass isn't always greener, because I have seen both sides of the fence.

And I have an eight-year-old lobbyist to back me up.