I must be doing something wrong. By the end of each weekend, I feel beat up, tense, exhausted, and demoralized. I will have spent every free hour – that means, any hour that I’m not grocery shopping, running errands, cleaning the house, cooking, or attending church – preparing for homeschool: writing tests, skimming next week’s health material, scheduling Biology reading and labs, figuring out Global History reading assignments, and determining English work. I spend a ridiculous amount of time on planning, learning at least some of the material and creating the table of times, topics, and due dates.
And any week night, you’ll find me reading – reading literature classics or books about history so that I can have an intelligent discussion with my son about the assignments I give from these books – and frankly, so that I can give an intelligent assignment in the first place.
I have no life, no time to myself. Rather, studying and scheduling is my life. And the worst part is that my son perpetually complains about all the work. When he was in public school, he didn’t complain much about his workload; he just did it. But now that I’m in charge of the work, he wears down my nerves with his grumbling and protests. Oh, he does the work, but he’s perpetually behind. Am I really overbooking him? But he won’t cover the required material by the end of the year if I let up. And he’s let me know he doesn’t want to study all summer. Frankly, I don’t want to go through this all summer either.
When I go back to work on Monday, it’s a reprieve. A rest.
Only five more years of this, if I homeschool the girls…
“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.”— Albert Pike, Scottish Rite Freemason (1809-1891)