But First We Have to Mourn

I think we have to mourn.

Lately, lots of the homeschool moms in my community have shared with me some pretty heavy hearts. The common theme seems to be a sense of self-doubt; the roots of the doubt are in their capability to educate their children and often have to do with varying influences from comparing their childrens’ learning to others, comments and judgements from family members, and realizing their children have an unanticipated learning challenge. I’ve been thinking about why self-doubt hasn’t captured me in the same way. I don’t think I’m any smarter or more qualified than any of these brilliant women. I don’t think I have any more or less external support or resources, just different ones. So what makes feel confident?

It could be my kid is younger than theirs and I just haven’t run into these scenarios yet, but I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s an issue of mourning.

Sometime, early on in my realization we’d be homeschooling our son, I got kind of upset about it. Afterall, when my son was born I was in a graduate program in learning sciences; I was in training to be an education scholar. I had preconceived notions about homeschooling and while they were unraveling and my excitement about home educating my son was growing (because I was close to the research and knew it was the right call) I was also sort of sad.

I spent some time mourning, and even questioning this calling, because it wasn’t what I’d imagined. In the years of trying to get pregnant, when I dreamed about having a kid, I imagined them going to school. While pregnant, even as I began to see how conventional school wouldn’t work for us, I imagined him at some kind of formal, outside-the-home education environment, even if it wasn’t public school. Moreover, I imagined doing all these things alongside my friends. People who had kids already, mentoring me in the ways of the world of school. Women who were pregnant at the same time as me, walking the path together. When we decided to homeschool I was suddenly all alone on an entirely different path. I didn’t know a soul who was making the same choice. I wasn’t even hiking in the same woods as them anymore. It felt isolating during an already lonely season of new motherhood, and it made the ache swell. I mourned for the lack of recognizable milestones and how invisible homeschooling might feel. I mourned for the way we’d be misunderstood and misrepresented. I mourned at how difficult it is to choose the path less traveled, knowing it holds a lack of support and resources. 

I let myself feel all of it – the excitement and momentum of this new path alongside the sadness of letting go of my expectations. Aren’t our expectations often the source of so much pain? A deep disappointment that my imaginary renderings would never transpire.

But wait, I actually think there’s more mourning. I actually think we have to mourn again. Mourn twice. Mourn anew.

Once we’ve mourned, and let those feelings go, I think we have to mourn again because our expectations have likely reared their heads once more. Whether we’re inspired in our homeschool journey by images on social media and pinterest or a specific homeschool philosophy or book, it’s likely we’ve imagined what it will be like. Maybe we are drawn to the aesthetic of Charlotte Mason but we can’t seem to keep up with the tea times and book parties. Maybe unschooling looks so cool and fancy-free but our kids needed more structure and fell apart without it. Maybe we thought the curriculum we purchased and wheeled out of the convention center was the solution to the resistance but it’s made things even harder. Maybe we thought we’d magically become more patient, less frustrated, less sin-ful mothers and yet, here we are, screaming at everyone as the clock strikes – what!? Only 10am. 

It turns out, the inspiration and momentum also sets us up for imagining what homeschooling will be like. These expectations, inevitably, are also now unmet. Which requires us to mourn again. I fell victim to it. Once we decided to homeschool, I began to eat up Charlotte Mason homeschool inspiration. But even before trying it I realized it wasn’t all going to work with my son. Just doing some gentle preschooling with him this year I’ve realized I will be able to implement a few things, but many of the things I’m drawn to in Charlotte Mason aren’t going to work for him because he is just too active and too strong-willed. We’ll be able to nature study for sure, and keep lessons short. But he’s not likely going to ever have poetry tea-time with me. Or at least not as soon as I’d like. And that’s okay but I needed to mourn the difference between the idea and our environment.

We need to allow ourselves to feel the disappointment and frustration of this reality without it becoming a verdict condemning our ability to educate and nurture our children. It’s not that serious, it’s simply unmet expectations. And yet, if we don’t tend to the feelings we are likely to doubt ourselves. Not only are we likely to knock ourselves down, but we are more susceptible to outside eyes evaluating our ability – real or imagined.

I think once we’ve allowed ourselves to mourn this way, then we can really get to where we need to be: tapping into our own skills and gifts. That’s where the confidence comes from. 

When we can move past the disappointment, doubt, frustration, and accept that our homeschool won’t look like anyone else’s because it’s ours, then we can dig deep within ourselves. Confidence comes from figuring out where to find the joy. We gain this when we reflect on our lives and pull from what we enjoy, are good at, and how to capitalize on it (for me that’s summer camp). We also gain this by continuous wonder and curiosity at who our kids are, pulling from what they enjoy, are good at, and how to capitalize on it. It has to work for them and for you for it to really work. We can’t really examine what that exactly looks like in our own context if we’re still hanging onto feelings about our decision to homeschool or our reckoning with what it really looks like once we’re doing it. 

So, we must mourn. It doesn’t need to be significant or long term, but it needs to be acknowledged. Whatever you’re holding onto from how you thought it would be, how you imagined it would look, it’s okay to feel it and then it’s fine to let it go. You don’t need to continue carrying it. Mourn it and release. Then, re-imagine what it can be, now that you have all the information. I guarantee you, what you dream up with eyes freshly cleansed by mourning will amaze you. 

Here are some questions I asked myself to get to a place of confidence in my home education environment:

1. What are my skills/strengths/assets? What do I enjoy but also what do others seem to really connect with about my skills/strengths/assets?
2. What do I really wish I could do but whenever I try it never goes how I imagined it would?
3. What is an experience from my past I really enjoyed and was good at? Go deep and far and wide. It could be something from your own childhood or from last month and anything in between. It might be something you spent a ton of time doing or it may have been brief but spectacular. Spend some time remembering. Ask yourself, what did I enjoy it? Why was I good at it? What kind of support did I have? What was so special about it?
4. After reflecting and remembering for a few days, allow yourself to get inspired. Ask yourself how you can re-create some of that magic and bring it into your own homeschool environment. Have a brainstorming session with yourself. Let yourself dream. What parts of that past experience would you do if there were no limits!?
5. Pick a few things. Grab two, no more than three, things from your brainstorming session and decide to try them. Re-create. Be inspired. Trust yourself. Give yourself the opportunity because it is often within those opportunities confidence can grow. Try things, test them. Keep what works and ditch what doesn’t. Add in a new idea every six months, or every new homeschooling year. Have some fun with it!
6. Be you. Be different. Find that past joy and make it part of your homeschool even if it doesn’t look like anyone else’s…no, because it doesn’t look like anyone else’s. Your homeschool shouldn’t look like anyone else’s. Celebrate it! Bask in it! It’s really so very cool. 

Originally posted 2/12/24 on old website