Leaf Jumpers: Our Journey from Homeschool
to School and Back Again
by Nikki Schaefer, 2007
“Mom, there’s just seven more days until the first day of fall!” My six year old son announced, giving me the usual morning ‘fall countdown’. “How are we going to celebrate? Can we jump in the leaves?”
“You bet!” I responded. “How about jumping in the leaves and making caramel apples?”
“HURRAY!!!” He cheered, with his younger sisters jumping in on the excitement…
That was autumn - two years ago.
THIS was autumn last year…
“Look, Ben,” I said. We just raked the first pile of leaves. Would you like to jump with us?”
“No. I don’t want to jump in the leaves.” My son responded flatly, barely looking up at us or the giant leaf pile. His sisters and I played while he “did his own thing”. My heart broke to see a boy of such enthusiasm and spirit become a boy filled with disinterest.
What happened? Is the age jump from 6 to 7 so drastic that a boy who once got so excited about jumping in the leaves with his sisters, no longer cares? I doubt it. In my opinion, what happened was “school.”
I was home schooling my son until last year, but I started to question if I could continue to meet the needs of this growing boy. Does he need more? Can I give him enough? Does he need more social interaction? Then I started to answer. He loves structure. He loves activity. He is so social. The conclusion: He was made for school. It just seemed like we were supposed to put him there. We gave it to God, we started to pray, and the stones seemed to pave the way toward school. It seemed like it was the “right” thing to do and it seemed like God was leading us there.
Ben went from playing half of the day in the leaves with his sisters to playing half of an hour on a black top. He went from cuddling on the couch with his family doing math games, reading, and storytelling, to sitting in a classroom in a hard desk with thirty-one other kids, filling out worksheet after worksheet, raising his hand to talk, standing in line – a lot, and keeping his mouth shut. He went from lingering over lunch in his kitchen while talking about the latest topic of interest, to gulping down his food quickly in a loud lunchroom with concrete walls and little windows. It’s no wonder that in just a short two month period this boy no longer wanted to play in the leaves… his spirit had forgotten how. It just didn’t “fit” anymore. He went from actively experiencing God in his everyday life with his family, to mundanely learning about Him on paper…that was the difference.
I don’t blame big schools for the approach that they take. With 32 kids in a room, it is impossible to cater education toward each child. Children DO have to “wait” a lot because there are a lot of other kids to “wait” for. It is necessary to provide tight order and structure or chaos would take over. It is important to start school at an early hour with a full seven hour day in order to fulfill state requirements. This is the reality of most schools. And for some kids, “school” is the best place. For some families, “school” is the right choice. But for our family, it was not.
We went from sharing a peaceful breakfast together with classical music in the background to the frenzied sound of my own voice shouting, “Hurry, Ben! We’re going to be late!” Dishes piling up in sink. Baby being pulled out of her crib to get to school on time. We went from enjoying the presence of a delightful boy, helpful leader and friend to his sisters, to feeling a huge hole in his absence. We missed him, and he missed us, and what took the place was disconnect.
I took all of this in. I prayed about it- a lot. I listened. I journaled. I sought advice. The conclusion: I can choose something different for my child and for my family. I can choose to home school and I can choose to home school in a way that gives my child the freedom to be a child, and to actively celebrate and experience God within his family and within his world. I can choose to pray while snuggling on the couch, play games to learn phonics, bake cookies to learn fractions, and provide the space to play in God’s creation. In doing so, my child will stay connected with himself, his family and his Creator in a deep and meaningful way. He will keep his “childhood” vigor and joy, the same joy that Christ refers to when he says, “For it is to such as these that the kingdom of Heaven belongs to…” God rejoices in seeing us play in leaves and delight in His earth…for in doing so, we are delighting in Him.
It is clear that God called us to put Ben in school last year. He wanted us to see the change in our son. He wanted us to feel the “effects” of school on our family. Because we put our son in school, we can now “get off the fence” and jump in the leaves with home schooling once more...
It is now almost autumn again and the school year has begun. My son and I were just saying bedtime prayers after a day of learning games, reading, and a field trip to the zoo. “What do you want to thank God for today?” I asked.
“I want to thank God that it’s getting colder,” he said, as his eyes lit up. “Because that means that fall is coming soon, and we can jump in the leaves again!” I smiled a deep smile and gave him a big hug. “I thank God for that too, Ben…I thank God for that too.”
“You bet!” I responded. “How about jumping in the leaves and making caramel apples?”
“HURRAY!!!” He cheered, with his younger sisters jumping in on the excitement…
That was autumn - two years ago.
THIS was autumn last year…
“Look, Ben,” I said. We just raked the first pile of leaves. Would you like to jump with us?”
“No. I don’t want to jump in the leaves.” My son responded flatly, barely looking up at us or the giant leaf pile. His sisters and I played while he “did his own thing”. My heart broke to see a boy of such enthusiasm and spirit become a boy filled with disinterest.
What happened? Is the age jump from 6 to 7 so drastic that a boy who once got so excited about jumping in the leaves with his sisters, no longer cares? I doubt it. In my opinion, what happened was “school.”
I was home schooling my son until last year, but I started to question if I could continue to meet the needs of this growing boy. Does he need more? Can I give him enough? Does he need more social interaction? Then I started to answer. He loves structure. He loves activity. He is so social. The conclusion: He was made for school. It just seemed like we were supposed to put him there. We gave it to God, we started to pray, and the stones seemed to pave the way toward school. It seemed like it was the “right” thing to do and it seemed like God was leading us there.
Ben went from playing half of the day in the leaves with his sisters to playing half of an hour on a black top. He went from cuddling on the couch with his family doing math games, reading, and storytelling, to sitting in a classroom in a hard desk with thirty-one other kids, filling out worksheet after worksheet, raising his hand to talk, standing in line – a lot, and keeping his mouth shut. He went from lingering over lunch in his kitchen while talking about the latest topic of interest, to gulping down his food quickly in a loud lunchroom with concrete walls and little windows. It’s no wonder that in just a short two month period this boy no longer wanted to play in the leaves… his spirit had forgotten how. It just didn’t “fit” anymore. He went from actively experiencing God in his everyday life with his family, to mundanely learning about Him on paper…that was the difference.
I don’t blame big schools for the approach that they take. With 32 kids in a room, it is impossible to cater education toward each child. Children DO have to “wait” a lot because there are a lot of other kids to “wait” for. It is necessary to provide tight order and structure or chaos would take over. It is important to start school at an early hour with a full seven hour day in order to fulfill state requirements. This is the reality of most schools. And for some kids, “school” is the best place. For some families, “school” is the right choice. But for our family, it was not.
We went from sharing a peaceful breakfast together with classical music in the background to the frenzied sound of my own voice shouting, “Hurry, Ben! We’re going to be late!” Dishes piling up in sink. Baby being pulled out of her crib to get to school on time. We went from enjoying the presence of a delightful boy, helpful leader and friend to his sisters, to feeling a huge hole in his absence. We missed him, and he missed us, and what took the place was disconnect.
I took all of this in. I prayed about it- a lot. I listened. I journaled. I sought advice. The conclusion: I can choose something different for my child and for my family. I can choose to home school and I can choose to home school in a way that gives my child the freedom to be a child, and to actively celebrate and experience God within his family and within his world. I can choose to pray while snuggling on the couch, play games to learn phonics, bake cookies to learn fractions, and provide the space to play in God’s creation. In doing so, my child will stay connected with himself, his family and his Creator in a deep and meaningful way. He will keep his “childhood” vigor and joy, the same joy that Christ refers to when he says, “For it is to such as these that the kingdom of Heaven belongs to…” God rejoices in seeing us play in leaves and delight in His earth…for in doing so, we are delighting in Him.
It is clear that God called us to put Ben in school last year. He wanted us to see the change in our son. He wanted us to feel the “effects” of school on our family. Because we put our son in school, we can now “get off the fence” and jump in the leaves with home schooling once more...
It is now almost autumn again and the school year has begun. My son and I were just saying bedtime prayers after a day of learning games, reading, and a field trip to the zoo. “What do you want to thank God for today?” I asked.
“I want to thank God that it’s getting colder,” he said, as his eyes lit up. “Because that means that fall is coming soon, and we can jump in the leaves again!” I smiled a deep smile and gave him a big hug. “I thank God for that too, Ben…I thank God for that too.”