Memories of Homeschooling
I gasped for breath. I had done it! All 60 math facts written as fast as I could hold my breath. My siblings and I had been chanting in rhythm “six times four is twenty four,” in sing-song voices. Somehow the answer just stuck if I said it that way…well, thought it that way when I raced against my breath. Moments like these were what being siblings was all about. It seems funny, memorizing math facts could be the glue that formed our relationships. We worked together, my 4 year old brother, 2 year old sister, and me. They were rooting for me, they cheered me on when I succeeded. Homeschooling gave us moments to share. We learned the same poems (often years apart), but then we could say them together. There was a need for independence, sure. When you learned a piano piece it was “yours.” No one else played it (well, usually…). There was a lot of camaraderie, a lot of playing. We played outside in the hot August sun, taking shelter in the Indian teepee. I’d smeared dandelion all over my sister’s arm because it would help her “heal” – I was the all-wise medicine woman. Another time I ate the raw onions because I was “starving” and locked in “prison.” I had never noticed that onions make your breath stink until that day. While looking for quartz in the field, we found puffy white balls that looked like old pig-skin basketballs, but when you opened them, they were full of spongy brown powder. One time we played a prank on my mom. I thought we were so funny! There is sticky grass shaped just like a spear, and we kids covered my dad’s back with the “spears.” He walked inside and fell over, moaning and groaning and yelling “I’ve been shot!” Oh what a laugh we had!
Being the oldest sibling, I was the ringleader, contriving all sorts of fun for my younger siblings. I arranged all of our books alphabetically and created a checkout system. I made menus and my siblings and I took turns “waiting” on each other with fun foods. Another time we each pretended to have a disability to put ourselves in their shoes. One was blind, another couldn’t use his legs; we’d help each other do everyday tasks like opening the door. We roller-skated around the driveway, my mom got us tap shoes and we made up dances together. Another time, my brother and I blindfolded the younger two and gave them a spaceship ride, “blasting off” up our stairs. We played “news anchor” when I gathered a trash bag full of everyday objects. Each bag of objects had different instructions, to sell a magic carpet or tell a news story about a giant frog.
School time was a treat. I remember vividly learning about the sons of liberty. Once Samuel understood the British government’s abuse and became frustrated about “taxation without representation,” he was moved to action. He joined the sons of liberty and headed out to dump tea in the river. I knew it was wrong to do something bad like waste tea, so it forced me to reconcile my idea of right and wrong. Sometimes public virtue takes precedence and you give up what you want (in this case, his safety and a simple life), for something more important (the country’s freedoms). I remember reading Christopher Columbus discuss how he was led by God in a dream to find the “new world.”
We could study what was interesting to us kids when it was interesting. Some days I would choose to do a day of all my science lessons, because it was most interesting (we had “lessons” some years with an online teacher teaching a class). My favorite days were when we learned about the planets and made 3-D models of them, or when my brother and I pooled our money to buy a big jug of vinegar so we could make a volcano the size of the sandbox and watch it overflow! I had a nature journal and would sketch blue flax, watching butterflies flit between the fragile flowers during its short blooming time. One day a butterfly migration came thorough our field. We could sweep our butterfly nets back and forth and catch one every time. Many butterflies were injured and we collected them all inside a tent we had been playing in. They landed on our fingers and we could enjoy their beauty up close. When I was alone, I loved to swing and read. The rocking motion and sun on my face was divine. Oh, to be free. The first warm spring day we headed to the park and my mom sat with me, our faces feeling sun for the first time in months. We soaked in the warmth and took time to just appreciate being alive. Those times when I was just content and at peace are the happiest, and the swing was a catalyst for many of those memories. I would just sit on the swing and read, letting the rocking motion lull me to rest. Every time I swing, I hear my mother’s voice “Oh how I love to go up in the air, up in the air and down…” When I jump on the tramp, I hear “Teddy bear teddy bear show your shoe,” and remember hours of laughing and giggling with my siblings. When I was older, someone mentioned something about hair being “dead.” That really got me interested in hair. I noticed my grandma’s hair was really coarse, yet mine was really fine. I learned about chemicals and dying hair and why perms work. I even tried getting a perm myself (luckily my mom was careful to just give my hair a gentle wave so it was a positive experience). I invited friends over and we dissected frogs in the basement. When it came to be lunchtime, I was so glad we could eat upstairs instead of down in the formaldehyde smell.
Later on, I really loved inspiring professors who taught me all I could know about physics and other subjects. I thrived on the organization and creating my own schedule. I loved exploring topics that interested me. I wanted to know why classical music made me feel good and think more clearly while other music drove away the spirit, so I read “Making the Music Decision” and wrote a paper about it. I read “Rich Dad Poor Dad” and wanted to put into practice the principles I learned, so my parents made an agreement with me. They would match whatever money I could save (from babysitting and filing at my dad’s office) so I could buy a mobile home. If I carefully saved my money each month, I could purchase another mobile home soon. But this one was different, I stepped inside and was overcome with stench. I couldn’t go in that trailer! It had become the neighborhood cat hang-out. The purchase price was only $1500 dollars and it was a big trailer so I knew it had potential to be profitable. After hiring someone to take out the carpet and trash, I stepped in, blasted the country music, and got started painting kilz over everything. I scrubbed putrid milk out of the fridge and learned to lay carpet from the manager’s daughter. Oh how people must have laughed, seeing two 15 year old girls banging their knees against the carpet, getting it to lay straight. When the renters came, I learned to judge character. When they said they worked for the circus and lied about being married to the manager I knew they were bad news. I saw neighbors watch TV all day and learned what it’s like to live in poverty. When I mowed the neighbor’s lawn, she invited me in. She had children from different abusive boyfriends and couldn’t hold down a job. I realized I was blessed to have a fridge full of food and a dad who loved me. I had free time to play the piano for hours and ponder. Somehow the keys seemed to play themselves and I got lost deep in thought. I had time to think and ponder, a rare gift in our fast-paced world. I studied scriptures, compiling quotes from prophets about subjects. I pondered what it meant that Satan would have power to bruise Christ’s heel but Christ would have power to crush the serpent’s head. I pondered the creation. I pondered my purpose in life, my patriarchal blessing, and my foreordained mission. I would draw or paint for hours, turning on uplifting music or conference talks, and the spirit would inspire me to create. I believe “the desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul” (Uchtdorf). Let your children have freedom and free time to create. Let them pursue their interests, let them laugh and play and explore. Above all, let them be kids. Let them enjoy their childhood and look back on it as the best years of their life. Let them find their mission, and prepare for it, then encourage them in fulfilling it.
