The kids in our neighborhood have been sulking a bit lately. Most of them have the “End of the Summertime Blues.” They scooter around the block, just as they have been doing all summer, but there heart isn’t in it anymore. They know that in just three short days, they will be returning to public school.
When the neighborhood kids were quietly grumbling about their situation, my two daughters nodded sympathetically — but in a way that suggested the neighborhood kids experience s a form of sadness they haven’t been exposed to. When I hear the neighbor kids talk about returning to school, I must resist a very immature part of my mind that wants to burst out with a Simpsons-style: “Ha-HA!” There’s a little child that’s lurking somewhere in my cerebelum, and its gleeful that my girls don’t have to slog through years of the dull and dreary institution known as public school.
That’s not to say that my kids don’t get burnt out with their homschool activities — but the amount of fun, happiness, family peace, and love-of-learning-hours they receive through our choice of education infinitely exceeds the whatever experiences they might have received in the public school.
I am so glad we detoured away from elemntary school. Now I just have to be humble about it and not say “HaHa” to the neighbors who decided to have their children stay on the conformist avenue of academia.