I am a ridiculous pile of contradictions.
Between the ages of 5 and 10 I loved school. L.O.V.E.D it. I was chipper every morning and looked forward to the END of summer. School shopping was like going to Disney World. I got to browse the aisles of Hill's Department Store, stroking the velour Garanimals separates as I walked past them. My opinion was consulted on potential purchases, all of which were placed in a cardboard box at the back of the store. I wanted nothing more than to follow our box on it's little conveyor belt to the stockroom and keep it company until we could afford to pay for all of it and take it home. The entire concept of "Back to School" was magical to me. No doubt, television commercials and a spectacularly un-stimulating home life played a part in making this time of year so special to me. I was trying to re-create the kind of family life I saw on tv. I wanted the kind of mother who indulged my irrational desire for folders decorated with kittens and pencils with my name on them. I wanted the kind of mother who didn't look at the price tag and meet my gaze with a sharp, "No."
Despite my past love affair with school and school shopping and the imaginary path to happiness that it might provide, I am shielding my child from all of it. No back to school shopping. No lay-away boxes. No mad rush to get a bunch of stuff that no one actually needs. No totally useless fall weather clothes that won't be worn for months. Am I sending my child to school in tattered shorts and flip-flops, without pencils and a back pack? Nope. I'm not sending her to school at all.
I am sometimes conflicted about homeschooling, but when I stop and really analyze what I am so nostalgic about, it has almost nothing to do with the traditional school education I received. I worry that my child will somehow be warped by missing out on the experience of buying notebooks, and kitten folders and toxic, plastic lunch boxes bearing the face of Hannah Montana or some such totally age inappropriate tv idol. I am worried about stuff, stupid unnecessary, "but so-n-so, has one" material garbage. I was brainwashed as a child and the effects still linger.
My daughter has her wants. She wants a pony and she wants to buy Princess gowns and wear them any time she doesn't feel like being naked, but she doesn't want a Hannah Montana book bag or High School Musical sneakers. She only wants what she wants, not what other kids tell her she should want. Her tastes change as quickly as the wind blows, but the wind is totally her creation.
Teaching my child at home allows me to control the various influences in her life. It's hard enough to know your own mind, when it keeps changing and growing and expanding exponentially everyday. When the kids at school and on the tv keep telling you something different, it can be hard to discern the difference between want and need. That difference is really the first and most important lesson of home economics. So, while we skip the trip to Wal-Mart for Tinkerbell t-shirts, in favor of browsing at the thrift store, we are really studying the value of a dollar, not to mention the environmental importance of not creating more stuff than is necessary.
I am hoping that one day, when Violet remembers "school", she will recall the day that reading finally clicked and not the day she got her Trapper Keeper or whatever it is that kids think they need these days. I have no memory of learning to read, but I can still see that Strawberry Shortcake safari outfit I wore on the first day of school and it makes me a little sad.
************************
How does your family deal with the financial pressures of back-to-school time? The Parent Bloggers Network and Capital One are teaming up to talk about family budgeting and finances. Check it out!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Hannah Montana, Lunch Box non Grata
Posted by
Unknown
at
12:50 PM
View Comments
Labels: blog blast, frugal living, homeschool, money, PBN, public school, T.V.
Friday, November 21, 2008
An Insufferable Dork of the Highest Order
I am something of a trivia buff...
Okay, I am a compulsive know-it-all that nobody wanted to hang out with in High School. I tried briefly in Junior High to deny my true self. I made a pact with a friend during the summer before 7th grade, which basically stated that we would "not be nerds" in the new school year. For me, that meant quitting the Prep Bowl team. Prep Bowl is Jeopardy for school kids. You folks who played sports and went to lots of boy/girl parties will be unfamiliar with this activity. We were profoundly uncool. I mistakenly believed that disavowing myself from this pasty group would somehow improve my social standing. It did not. In fact, I was even more miserable because I had defected from the one social group where I was accepted. Alas, my adolescence was a comedy of errors.
***********************************
C'mon Down ! This PBN Blog Blast is being sponsored Oliebollen. You can win fabulous prizes!
- Share this on del.icio.us
- Digg this!
- Stumble upon something good? Share it on StumbleUpon
- Share this on Reddit
- Add this to Google Bookmarks
- Tweet This!
- Share this on Facebook
- Share this on Mixx
- Subscribe
- Buzz up!
- Share this on Linkedin
- Submit this to DesignFloat
- Share this on Technorati
- Submit this to Script & Style
- Post this to MySpace
- Share this on Blinklist
- Share this on FriendFeed
- Seed this on Newsvine
Posted by
Unknown
at
8:38 AM
View Comments
Labels: misadventure, public school, vintage
Saturday, September 27, 2008
No Parent Left UN-Queasy
I recently had the pleasure (?) of viewing Where We Stand, a PBS special on our nations schools. Coincidentally, the Ohio Public School system was used as an example throughout the program. So, not only did I get a punch in the gut about my daughter's fate as a potential public school customer, but Ohio kicked me in the shins for good measure. The entire show was unexpectedly nauseating. I have entertained the idea of homeschooling for awhile now and this may have pushed me over the edge. I will never cease to be shocked at our country's cultural tendency to view constant growth as the ultimate marker of success. From physical growth charts, to income growth, to intellectual growth, there seems to be no tolerance for standing still. My husband and I frequently talk about how we SHOULD send our kid to public school, to show our commitment to improving education for all kids, but how do I explain that to Violet. "I'm sorry honey, I know that we are putting YOUR emotional, social and intellectual development at risk, but it's for the good of your great-great grandchildren." I have but one child to give this planet and I am not so sure that screwing her up with a 12 year sentence of social and academic bullying is the way to go. I see her so joyfully learning new things and yet I know that after 2 or 3 years in school she will dread every day and start a countdown to summer vacation, as I did. Can we devise a way to teach kids to love learning and maintain certain standards at the same time? Just like with universal healthcare, other countries seem to be doing it and America resists, because America is the best and we don't take orders from no one...Of course, all of this personal turmoil might be mute if I lived 2 miles up the hill in the Oakwood School District. I think that perhaps our gentile poverty may guide us in the right direction, yet again. We are fortunate enough to afford my staying home, but not wealthy enough to afford private school, so the Heathen Family Homeschool is now in session. A strict dress code of pajamas and unbrushed teeth will be enforced!
- Share this on del.icio.us
- Digg this!
- Stumble upon something good? Share it on StumbleUpon
- Share this on Reddit
- Add this to Google Bookmarks
- Tweet This!
- Share this on Facebook
- Share this on Mixx
- Subscribe
- Buzz up!
- Share this on Linkedin
- Submit this to DesignFloat
- Share this on Technorati
- Submit this to Script & Style
- Post this to MySpace
- Share this on Blinklist
- Share this on FriendFeed
- Seed this on Newsvine
Posted by
Unknown
at
9:13 AM
View Comments
Labels: homeschool, public school