Pajama School: Memories of Homeschooling

I blame this blog post on my mother. Today, in order to encourage Joanna to find a misplaced Sonlight book , Mita told her seven year old that she could not start third grade until she found the book. She found it, of course. This only worked because Joanna WANTS to start school tomorrow! That discourse reminded me of the joys of homeschooling, and my memories of that part of my education.

It’s summertime! Except, it’s not—not really. Children are returning to school in droves, sitting at desks, while enticing summer days beckon them to go outside and play.
Ah, yes, I was homeschooled…for quite some time. The fresh school year was always a time of excitement for me. I never quite knew when it might start—August, September, October, January—school started whenever Daddy (or Grandma Stover) found the funds to purchase the curriculum.
Curriculum: that word recalls joyous memories. Although we didn’t open many presents at Christmas time, the advent of a new school year brought lots of boxes—properly labeled with the purple ABeka insignia—for us to open. I loved the smell of new textbooks and the neat, unwrinkled video cases (and later plastic dvd cases) that heralded a new grade. Eagerly, I would open my reading/literature book and peruse it for stories closest to my reading level (which was always several above my grade). My reading books were quickly exhausted and laid aside in favor of my history books, which regaled me with stories of conquistadors, Hittites, emperors, and dictators.
The day the boxes arrived, my siblings and I would “try out” our new video teaches, criticizing them for facial ticks, or the infamous ABeka dresses. Soon, thereafter, we would formally start school. For three years (5th, 6th, and 7th grades) Benj and I were in the same grade. This worked out brilliantly. I was a sleeper, and he was a 3 o’ clocker (my siblings would get up at that hour to do school for the day). We compromised, and often began school at 6 AM. Benj would stay up and listen; I would sleep. We learned that it was better if he did math first, so that I would eventually wake up for the exciting subjects—such as History.
Benj and I were great partners. We conspired on tests and homework, and as a result, learned more than we probably would have on our own. As 9 and 10 year olds, we scorned Penmanship as an art of the past. (Incidentally, modern homeschooling experts agree with us—save ABekaites.) Our math skills became sharper as we pitted ourselves against one another. Our voices deteriorated to the same degree of tone-deafeness, and we both cheerfully learned one half of the grammar rules (different halves). History was our favorite subject, as our teachers keenly realized that acting the defeat of the Spanish Armada is a much better teaching tool than a sheet of dates.
I still bear the scars of my homeschooling upbringing.
-I rejoice at tests. Perhaps this is because tests were never given much consequence in our house, or because I always knew where the answer key was. Whatever the case may be, test-taking is one of my favorite parts of academia.
-I know how to find my own grade on tests—without asking the teacher the formula. I discovered that this is not common knowledge when I went to a brick n’ mortar schools(Bob Jones Academy, and Providence Christian High School). The innate knowledge of grade deviation seems to apply singularly to homeschoolers. I wonder why…
-I prefer classes that give me leeway in my studies. ‘Nuff said.
-I still think I should have the right to use the bathroom in the middle of a test. Ibid.
And finally, I am woefully without the answers in the pop culture sections of Jeopardy! But, I can trounce most people in every other section. Can you scream homeschooler?