Soaring into another loosely planned school year.

Summer came and went. Time vanished like drops from the sprinkler on a hot summer day in Arizona.  Where did the relaxation go?  Why don’t I have all of my school supplies?  What happened to all the books I was going to read and all the prep I was going to do for this school year?  Time escaped and I didn’t even see it slipping away.  

Yesterday we had our orientation for our Classical Conversations (CC) community. Our school year has begun.  My eldest will be in Challenge 1 (9^thgrade), I will be tutoring Challenge B (8^thgrade), and my youngest will be in her second year of Foundations and Essentials (5^thgrade).  There is so much to look forward to this year, but I’ve found myself unprepared and slightly wild-eyed and off balance as I look into our future.  

It’s become commonplace for me to fly by the seat of my pants and I tend to be remarkably comfortable doing just that, yet I always aspire to have a majestic, premeditated plan.  It would be a beautiful thing to have read all of the books for the coming school year and to look at the Latin and the logic curriculum and say to myself, “I will have no problem teaching that!”  To look at the math and the science and know exactly which days the tests and quizzes will be given would put my heart at ease.  And how lovely it would be to have the tiniest smidgen of an idea as to how on earth I will fairly grade my daughters’ papers. Having a daily lesson plan is a constant dream of mine.  I honestly yearn for it and fantasize about how cute and well organized it would be. I have one that I’m always working on, but it never seems to get finished until the week for which it was intended has sneakily leapt upon us.  I love that CC has a guide and I live by it, but, as a parent, I would be tickled pink if I was presented with a day-by-day “to do” list containing every test my student needed to take, rubrics for grading all the work they are to turn in to me, and little motivational notes saying things like “You can do this and don’t forget, you did this to yourself,” and “Great job graduating from college!  We promise, sentence diagraming will not defeat you,” and maybe even, “If things get too stressful, hide in the pantry; there’s food in there.”

I realize that such a “to do” list is an impossible item for a homeschool system like CC to put out, so I diligently struggle to make it myself.  Part of the reason it could never work for CC to make such a list is that we homeschoolers, by nature, do not like to be boxed into someone else’s plan.  We are rebellious go-getters who have no problem casting off the shackles of conformity.  I’m sure that my school weeks look almost nothing like the weeks of any of my children’s peers.  Homeschooling is fantastically flexible.  I know my child best and we can focus on what she needs, not what some list says she’s got to do.  If a lesson is hard for her, we can take extra time.  If it’s easy, we can make sure she gets it and move on.  I don’t need to rate her against her peers.  She is her own measuring rod and she knows deeply that there is no status quo for her.  The goal is to stretch and to grow in her understanding and in her faith. There is no “to do” list that would suffice; we are walking on an ever-changing path.  So no matter how much I want someone else to make me a “to do” list, I know it wouldn’t be good enough for us.

I’ll eventually come to terms with what is.  Maybe I need to let go of my dreams of a Pinterest-perfect daily lesson plan.  I know the work will get done, the conversations will be had, the books will get read, the sentences will be diagrammed, and the papers will be graded. My goal is to do it all with a peaceful, joy filled heart.  Maybe someday the aforementioned escaped time will find its way back to me and I’ll make myself an impeccable, yearlong, amazing lesson plan, but until then, pray for me as I soar through this school year by the winged seat of my pants.