Yesterday was the first day of our fall semester. This will be my first year teaching two little sillies. The Goose is now in 3rd grade, and The Boy is doing K4. The Flea is majoring in Mischievous Studies, and is producing a dissertation on "The Deconstruction of the Blankie: One Fingerful at a Time." She is a diligent researcher.
I don't feel quite ready for our school year -- still some ancillary things I haven't gotten around to ordering, and our science curriculum arrived just yesterday. But man, these kids have grown stir-crazy, being out of their regular routine! The time has come!
I always looked forward to the beginning of the school year when I was a kid. New books, new supplies, new school clothes. In my mind's eye I can still hold my Mickey Mouse Club metal lunchbox, redolent of peanut butter. But around here Day One arrived with little anticipation. We'd worn ourselves out with swimming lessons instead of shopping sprees. Our Friday lunchboxes probably won't be on sale anymore by the time I make it to Target.
But one of the coolest things about homeschooling is taking off after school to spend the afternoon and evening at Six Flags with my dad and brother. I NEVER got to do that when I was a kid.
We've had a light schedule the past two days, but you'd never know it by looking at my third-grader's face. Every math assignment is greeted with grimaces of despair and disgust. (And these Singapore Math books are the same ones she loudly and eagerly awaited only two months ago.)
Writing words inside a 1" high box is a task beyond her ability, since she's incapable -- INCAPABLE, I tell you -- of writing letters smaller than 2" high. It's pathetically comical. Finally I have enough days of homeschooling under my belt that I can respond to this annual ritual with bemusement instead of worry. This phase will run its course, and not a moment too soon.