Our Unexpected and Mixed Journey through the Local School System

Consistency, Strong Ties, History: The Route of my Youth

Seems logical to say this journey began when our oldest started kindergarten. Really, though, it began when I started kindergarten…

Way back in the late ‘70s.  In my blue plaid uniform and white knee socks, at a private school my mom and her sisters had gone to when nuns still taught.  It became home to me, my brother, and some of our cousins.

On Sunday mornings, we’d see our classmates with their families, doing the same thing we were doing with our own families. The school curriculum was solid and the teachers were dedicated.

After 9 years, I headed across town to high school.  The same high school my parents and grandparents had attended. The school my great grandfather had been the first quarterback of.

There were new buildings and a nicer gym. The town had grown, after all. But many of us students were the teenage children of the people our parents had grown up with.

Teachers who had been there for decades would say, “Oh, you’re a Smith. Are you Tom’s son? Tom was a student of mine.”

Plan as You May but Expect the Unexpected

Then I went away to college and settled in a town I knew little about. We had kids. All of a sudden kindergarten was around the corner. Where would they go to school?

I envisioned an uncomplicated road like the one I had. a single straight path all the way through 12th grade- “Merge left and continue until the youngest finishes high school.”

We chose two schools- here for primary, there for secondary. We were confident of the selection.

Would there be occasional rough pavement? Yes, naturally.

But entirely new roads leading to entirely new schools? Not a chance. Too many changes would lead to, well, instability or a life-long pattern of thinking the grass is greener on the other side.

Step up or Ship out:  Ultimate Participation at Private School  

Involvement. Sort of a foreign concept to me when we started at private school.

My own parents hadn’t been the type to volunteer for field trips or school functions. They let us raid the pantry during canned food drives and wrote notes to teachers if we struggled. But in general, they entrusted the school to do its job and only got involved on occasion to fulfill required hours.

This is what I had in mind when our oldest entered kindergarten. Sorta like sitting in the backseat but making sure the driver was doing a good job.

Turns out there wasn’t an “on occasion” involvement option. More like immersion. Even beyond the required hours, parents contributed substantial time and resources to field trips, cultural extravaganzas, special luncheons, fundraising events, class celebrations, more fundraising, art projects, pageants, and faith assemblies.

Their commitment did create exceptional experiences and a strong sense of community.

Academic expectations were exceptional too. I was in awe when I’d walk down a hallway and see elaborate student projects on display. How had kids managed such in-depth work?

After several years, the mandatory volunteer hours and staggering loads of homework consumed too much of our daily lives. We craved more balance, more time for other life-shaping experiences. We placed value on school, but not in the same way or to the degree this system did.

I was grateful for the positive aspects of private, and the thought of leaving was hard to swallow at first. We had made lots of friends. But, the longer we stayed, the less in-step we felt. Sorta like a square peg in a round hole.

So, why stay?

Welcome to Public School: The Path of Minimalism

After proving our address with a utility bill, we enrolled in public and entered the world of union negotiations, Common Core, equal opportunity and “no funding for that”.

Things were simple, undemanding. Nothing over the top. More like bare bones basic, actually.

It reminded me of the way my grandmother cooked when I’d stop by unannounced for a visit. She’d gather a few simple ingredients she had on hand and whip up a little meal for me.

The teachers used what was on hand, with the premise that all students would have access to the same resources. In our district, that wasn’t much.  

- I finished my mission report, Mom.

-You had a mission report?

-Yea, we did it in class.

 -What about those big replica things your brothers had to build?

-She didn’t assign one. 

-You mean we don’t have to spend a small fortune at the craft store? No painting? No hot glue gunning?    

-Nope.

-No presentation? No typed report?

There wasn’t anything fancy about the report. It was fourth grade work. It was organized. But she’d done it completely on her own and learned. Hallelujah!

Halfway through the year, I still didn’t know a single parent. The kids had made friends but get-togethers after school weren’t common and there weren’t any required volunteer hours to fill. I’d never spoken to the principal. My contribution was dropping off, picking up, and occasionally helping with homework (which usually entailed cursing at the insanity of Common Core).

We’d done a complete 180, and it was a bit of a culture shock. But the kids were happier and we were all more relaxed.

We filled evenings and weekends with travel, hiking, basketball, swimming, ballet, taekwondo.  Life felt more well-rounded.

One kid struggled, though, and things weren’t improving. What to do for him? The thought of finding something new again wasn’t appealing. I’d gotten out of my comfort zone once- wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t this new school just work for everybody?  

Then, on Halloween as we took our kids trick-or-treating and ate candy from their bags, my cousin and I talked. She had a good friend who facilitated for a homeschool organization. She persuaded me to talk to her friend.

And just like that, things shifted again.

Unconventional and Self-Directed: the Vast Possibilities of Homeschool

I spent Thanksgiving weekend that year devouring books, articles and blogs on all the different approaches to homeschool. It was like an alternate universe opened up. The options were endless.

I was inspired by parents around the world who didn’t view learning as a series of benchmarks. Their perspective was more about meeting an individual child’s needs and interests. They were light-hearted and confident, and they had the evidence of happy and successful kids to prove their methods worked.

On our first official day of homeschool, I asked what he wanted to learn about.

-I don’t know.

-What interests you?

-Basketball.

(Duh! The thing he lived for.)

-Weren’t you and Dad talking about redoing the basketball court?

-Yes.

-Ok. So, research. What’s the best materials to use where we live? What are the measurements? Take notes, make lists, get prices. What’s the process from start to finish? This would be a great Google Slides presentation.

It was research, reading comprehension, writing, math, science, critical thinking, and time management wrapped up in one assignment.  

Two days later, walking past his room, I heard him giving measurements and asking for a quote.

-Who were you talking to?

-The concrete people.

-You called a concrete company?

-Yea.

Our approach was DIY learning- get curious, be resourceful, learn, apply. The topics we picked were relevant and interesting. We weren’t restricted to a mandated curriculum. Some of what we did was traditional, like writing and math. But most wasn’t.

It was also efficient. More got accomplished in 2 hours than an entire day at school.

Our other kids would come home and want to know about his day, what cool things had he gotten to work on? Had he finished all his work by lunchtime again? They were fascinated.

And yet, none of them wanted to homeschool. I tried convincing and even thought about insisting they do it for a semester. But they liked the variety of experiences on campus. Things like ukulele during music and intramural sports. Navigating their day away from home gave them a sense of independence. And their biggest reason- daily interactions with friends. 

Our homeschool stint was short-lived, just about two years. It served its purpose right when it was needed most.

But high school rolled around and he wanted the traditional experience- sports, lockers, spirit week, peers.  

Charter: Something for Just About Everyone

A few years later, motivated by better athletic opportunities, two of them headed to a charter high school. It was 30 minutes away in an odd location just off the freeway, across from a small airport and an industrial park. Fridays were work-at-home days, so it really felt like a 4-day week.

It was divided into 8 small academies, each specializing in a different learning style and career or academic interest. Students enrolled in the academy that best suited them.

Kids came from all over the county, so there wasn’t a sense of neighborhood pride or community interest.

It had sports, but it didn’t have alumni or parent clubs, homecoming, rallies, or even a year book. The upside, though, was students seemed more goal-oriented, less distracted.

Compared to the public high schools our other kids attended, this was a calmer, more flexible atmosphere. We’d reluctantly gotten used to long lists of rules, suspicion that kids were likely breaking the rules, and strict enforcement of rules. Here, there were policies but not a fixation on them.

One of our kids was working toward an athletic scholarship, which meant missing school when he traveled across country with his team.

I wrote an email to the administrator and teachers, bracing myself for the typical backlash- warnings and threats about the dangers of not being in class.

The responses I got back shocked me.

“Good luck. Let me know what I can do to support his goal.”

“No problem. We’ll put assignments online. He can do them on his laptop when he travels.”

“My daughter went to college on an athletic scholarship too. It’s not easy. I’m happy to give some advice if you need it.”

I could see why the wait lists for admission were so long each year.

My Take-Away

This journey has been nothing like I expected when our oldest started kindergarten 15 years ago.

I can’t say I’ve been led to campaign for one particular kind of school.

What I’ve been guided to is an expanded mindset, an openness to try new avenues, an unwillingness to tolerate something that isn’t working, and a confidence to advocate for my kids.

I have a deeper understanding of how unique each of my children is. What works for one, doesn’t necessarily work for the other four.

There were a few years early on when they all attended the same school, but after that they went to schools that made sense for them individually.

Sounds crazy, I know. But the benefits of having happy kids that succeed outweighs the logistical inconveniences of having them at different schools.

I grew up with consistency and hoped to pass it on to my own kids. In the most unexpected way, I’m doing that. Rather than coming in the form of one campus or one kind of school system, the consistency is expressing itself in the form of an intention. An intention to thrive.

I’m curious to see what the rest of this journey is like. Right now, our youngest is only in third grade. We’ve still got quite a stretch of road ahead of us.