Expectations vs Reality

This month’s blog post comes from Lisette Ariola, STAC member and mother of two.

As I sit here, trying to decide what to write, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I am
decidedly not a fount of homeschooling wisdom. All I can speak from is my own experience.
There are so many others here at STAC with more experience, and I sit in awe of these heroes.
Quite literally. When classes meet in person, I sit and listen to the flow of conversation and
realize over and again how much I still have to learn. But then, isn’t that the whole point of
homeschooling? That we all, from newborn to the most experienced homeschool veteran, should
be in a continual state of evolution and learning?
When we first started out, I had a Definitive Plan. Seriously - I had spreadsheets outlining every
curriculum we would use for every year through graduation, month-by-month schedules,
mandatory reading lists, and absurdly high expectations. Our house was minimalistic and
meticulously clean. I was strict, uncompromising, and had a desperate need to be in total control
(and yes, the stress was insane).
Fast-forward to 2013 and our world got turned upside-down. In the space of two years,
everything I thought I knew came into question. My worldview was shattered.
It was the best thing that could have happened.
Those two years of turmoil culminated in a cross-country move. This put us in the path of a
pediatrician who recognized the signs of high-functioning autism and helped us obtain a
diagnosis. I met homeschooling families who were open-minded and genuine, who taught me it
was ok to be real and honest and have friends over when the house was messy and cry together
over wine while the kids played in the mud. I was forced out of my comfort zone, where I had to
reevaluate my motives and priorities, develop new and better parenting skills, and bend so I
wouldn’t break. I was learning.
Then my husband lost his job and we moved again (five times actually - worms, can, etc.).
Homeschooling allowed us to teach as we traveled, and I started - with much trepidation - giving
up my dependency on schedules and curriculum. Trying to do it all perfectly, with the future so
uncertain, caused too much anxiety for everyone. Don’t get me wrong, books will always be
important; but we learned more from the places we visited and the strangers we talked with. I
began realizing that learning isn’t a scheduled activity, rather, a state of being. The most
important things were that our children felt secure in our love, and that we set them an example
of enthusiasm and curiosity for all of our “learning adventures.”
They explored museums, rambled through state and national parks, tried new foods, held
intelligent conversations with total strangers, learned about local history and wildlife, and visited
libraries and playgrounds. They made friends of all ages and backgrounds in every place we
lived. When I stood back, freed them from my expectations, and let them be themselves, they
blossomed.
It was a humbling - and liberating - lesson.
Now, here we are in Georgia. Settled, I hope for quite some time, in a place we’re learning to
love. Our house is cluttered, the shelves need dusting, the laundry hasn’t been folded since Labor
Day, and I don’t know what’s for supper tonight. The kids still “do school,” but the requirements
are far less stringent and our days are flexible. They have a healthy dose of autonomy over their
time and are learning about responsibility and rewards. Everyone is, on average, happier and
more relaxed. We follow their trails of curiosity with messy experiments, YouTube videos, and
conversation. They cook, play video games, run barefoot outside, climb trees, watch cartoons,
put on plays and concerts, write and illustrate stories, use their imaginations, and bring drawings
and flowers to the neighbors. They are kind and generous, deep thinkers, and have a strong sense
of justice and equality. I am learning to trust that my children will learn what they need to know.
My job is to set an example and to provide (or simply allow) them the opportunities.
Do I have it all figured out? Not in the least. Is this the best or only way? Nope, I’m sure things
will change again in time. Should I go fold that laundry? Probably, but my youngest wants to go
outside and catch lizards and that sounds way more fun. Chores will always be there, but for
now, we’re gonna go live and learn.