Wonderfully Uneventful

Up until August, decisions and plans for this school year consumed me. It was as if making some decisions about my firstborn's education was the culmination and standard of measure of all my years of learning, reading, theorizing, and teaching. August came, decisions were made; life carried on. And it was all so totally, wonderfully uneventful.

Today we went to an assembly to celebrate the end of Luke's kindergarten year. August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May. These months passed and my son changed from young child to mature big kid, dare I even say young man. He amazes me. Two days at school was the right decision. He flourished. In spite of my doubts regarding the base curriculum, he is reading and writing. In spite of the early distress of playground chaos, he loves recess and has solid friendships. Three days at home with me was the right decision. We had so much fun (for the most part). He learned and did and drew me into deep conversations and we read and read and read (Charlotte's Web four times for starters!) and saw and tried and played and worked and hiked together. I'm regretting that I let the monthly photo records slip!

After many years of formal education as student, and then some more as professional, I am just about through my first AS PARENT. One down, 17 to go; and these 18 years (between three kids) are the pinnacle, purpose, and gauge of all my previous experience and preparation. It has been a huge year for Luke, but also for me. In homeschooling, I DID what I have overseen, observed, contemplated, and analyzed for years. It was freeing. It was not exactly as I had pictured. It was three days a week, not full-time. And the other two days were not just anything - they were a dynamic, incredible core of Luke's kindergarten year. He thrived at school (much to my surprise and delight). It was not what I had thought but God led us there and this year far exceeded my expectations.

The HEART at the school is remarkable; the tone set by the principal is reflected in staff and students and can be felt walking down an empty stairway. The teacher who started out the year giving up her lunch time to assure me that my sensitive boy wasn't too overwhelmed on that chaotic playground, spent the rest of the year loving and teaching and guiding him purposefully and perfectly. I sit here overwhelmed with thankfulness for Luke's teacher who poured herself into Luke and cared for him individually. Today she spoke of each child in her class individually, a minute of nice words to sum up 10 months spent truly knowing and investing in each. I didn't expect to hand him over twice a week and not need to ask and assure myself of all details, both academic and emotional. I expected to really do it all myself even if I wasn't the hands-on, go-to person every minute. I expected to have to guard over Luke's heart and mind very consciously. But these expectations were without factoring in a teacher who would take all of that on herself. Academics soared. Luke was engaged and excited. Socially and emotionally he flourished. A school teacher knows MY Luke and cares for his mind and heart like I do. On the at-school days, I dropped him off and picked him up. I was at ease. He was at ease. No need to ask my questions. No need. The whole year was beautifully uneventful in day to day operation, but ever so eventful when I look back - a five-year-old changed from little kid to young man. I cannot find words to express my gratitude to Mrs W for partnering with me in my son's education.