Infection
Blogging.
It's amazing to me. I can see why people think it's the revolution of the writing trade. Basically, I can write an entire book--my memoirs--about my adventures in homeschooling, parenting, knitting, writing, birdwatching...whatever I want, and it's here for all the world to see. Published. When I was in high school, my journalism teacher said you can call yourself a "published" author if you've had anything submitted for mass human consumption. How many published authors there must be with the advent of the web! Has the definition of a published author changed?
Well, I will begin my life as a published author (according to my journalism teacher's definition) by writing my memoirs of my life as a homeschooling parent. And to begin, I'll start with some background.
I can't really tell you exactly why I decided to homeschool my children. What I do remember is that I read an article about a homeschooling family when I was in high school. I don't know who it was, but I do remember that they were being given a hard time and, if memory serves me correctly, actually had their children taken from them due to "truancy." This seemed to me very radical and unfair. After all, the parents seemed to be on the right track. They wanted to give their children an excellent education. They seemed intelligent, caring, attentive. They certainly didn't seem like the kind of parents who would just allow their children to permanently play hooky from school. I guess, upon the reading of that article, a seed was planted.
High school, to me, wasn't necessarily completely unpleasant. However, I did lack motivation in certain areas, mostly because the teachers in those areas also lacked motivation. I don't think it's a mistake that my most passionate teachers were my language arts teachers. Mrs. Wise had introduced some of the most fantastic literature to me in the fourth grade--The Red Badge of Courage, A Wrinkle in Time (which I listened to on a borrowed library phonograph record over and over every night), and so many others. In seventh grade, Mrs. Jones introduced me to Eleanor Rigby. I remember being fascinated that she kept her face in a jar by the door.Who was it for? My four favorite teachers in high school were Miss Gradwell (speech), Mrs. George (journalism and English), Mrs. Berry (English Lit) and Mrs. Hunt (Humanities), all language arts teachers. Years later, I would see Mrs. Hunt in the mall and swell with pride as she nodded approvingly at my homeschooled children. I had the chance to tell her just how much her love of literature had meant to me and how she had always inspired me to learn more. I would also have a chance to see Miss Gradwell again, watching in amazement as she received a writer's award at a seminar I had attended on just a whim. Judy Gradwell had endured and conquered breast cancer and decided to use her love for words to share her struggle with other people.
I'm not saying that I homeschooled because I loved language arts.
Necessarily.
What I am saying is that I recognized that a love of learning was contagious. It was contracted by those who also had a love of learning.
I wanted to infect my own children.
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