Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Move over Kathy
A guest columnist for the Sunday NY Times labeled himself a "writer/comedian." Can you just call yourself a comedian, or do you actually have to perform on a stage? I call myself a writer; doing so makes me write more. If I call myself a comedian, will I get funnier? Writer/comedian is kinda perfect. I'm stealing it.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Who Knew?
When I pulled my youngest child out of public school near the end of third grade to homeschool, I had some doubts but I was pretty sure it was the right thing to do. We were all miserable and frustrated, parents, child, and teachers alike and homeschooling seemed like the best solution.
Wow, everyone said. This is going to be a huge time and energy commitment on your part. I know, I told them. I got a bit swept up in what a wonderful martyr I was. Anything for the kid.
The truth was it was easier to help him follow his interests and be excited about learning again than it was dealing with the bureaucracy and narrow-mindedness of our public school system. Instead of focusing on what he had difficulties with, we focused on his strengths and passions. He read voraciously (considered a “problem” in school because “All he wants to do is read”). We joined support groups, went on field trips, and became active in our local 80+ family homeschooling coop. That funny, bright, wise-ass personality that we knew before he entered school was reemerging. He made many many new friends. And, much to my surprise, so did I.
I went into this homeschooling thing as a rescue mission. I will sacrifice all my personal interests and time, I thought, because that's what one does as a parent: if your child needs something, you provide it. I was ready to do what it took, and then resume my own life at a future date. Boy, was I wrong.
When we first started going on group field trips, picnics, and gym days I was undeniably aloof. I was here for my kid, I already had plenty of friends, I would like to use this opportunity to read, thank you very much. And, to the credit of the adults around me, I was left alone. Then a funny thing happened. Overheard conversations sounded really interesting. These parents aren't just talking about their kids (although that certainly happened too) but politics and travel and friendships and food. Hmmm.
As more time passed and we spent more hours at the coop, I put my book down more often. I found that I enjoyed the conversation and the camaraderie. Before I knew it, more than a few relationships extended beyond the bond of homeschooling, and true friendships developed outside the realm of what we were doing with our kids. Book groups, martini tastings, trips to San Francisco, snowshoeing, bike riding, coffee drinking. When I received a serious medical diagnosis a few years ago, these new friends rushed to help out in any way they could, making sure the kid got where he needed to go so I didn't have to worry about that, at least. One made me a beaded “Fuck Cancer” bracelet, which showed how much she understands me. On the last day of chemotherapy, I arrived in the hospital parking lot to find that my car had been decorated with with balloons, humor and good wishes. My tears lasted the whole way home.
Most recently, I am part of a writers group which consists of 3 other women whom I first knew through some avenue of homeschooling; this group has been a major source of creative and emotional support over the past year. We meet, we laugh, we eat, we go to the movies, and sometimes we even write. When you share your writing, you share everything. You trust with the truth. These girls have become my go-to safety net and Ultimate Truth Tellers.
What I did 8 years ago for my kid was what he needed and deserved.
What I did 8 years ago for my kid was one of the best things I ever did for myself.
Who knew?
Wow, everyone said. This is going to be a huge time and energy commitment on your part. I know, I told them. I got a bit swept up in what a wonderful martyr I was. Anything for the kid.
The truth was it was easier to help him follow his interests and be excited about learning again than it was dealing with the bureaucracy and narrow-mindedness of our public school system. Instead of focusing on what he had difficulties with, we focused on his strengths and passions. He read voraciously (considered a “problem” in school because “All he wants to do is read”). We joined support groups, went on field trips, and became active in our local 80+ family homeschooling coop. That funny, bright, wise-ass personality that we knew before he entered school was reemerging. He made many many new friends. And, much to my surprise, so did I.
I went into this homeschooling thing as a rescue mission. I will sacrifice all my personal interests and time, I thought, because that's what one does as a parent: if your child needs something, you provide it. I was ready to do what it took, and then resume my own life at a future date. Boy, was I wrong.
When we first started going on group field trips, picnics, and gym days I was undeniably aloof. I was here for my kid, I already had plenty of friends, I would like to use this opportunity to read, thank you very much. And, to the credit of the adults around me, I was left alone. Then a funny thing happened. Overheard conversations sounded really interesting. These parents aren't just talking about their kids (although that certainly happened too) but politics and travel and friendships and food. Hmmm.
As more time passed and we spent more hours at the coop, I put my book down more often. I found that I enjoyed the conversation and the camaraderie. Before I knew it, more than a few relationships extended beyond the bond of homeschooling, and true friendships developed outside the realm of what we were doing with our kids. Book groups, martini tastings, trips to San Francisco, snowshoeing, bike riding, coffee drinking. When I received a serious medical diagnosis a few years ago, these new friends rushed to help out in any way they could, making sure the kid got where he needed to go so I didn't have to worry about that, at least. One made me a beaded “Fuck Cancer” bracelet, which showed how much she understands me. On the last day of chemotherapy, I arrived in the hospital parking lot to find that my car had been decorated with with balloons, humor and good wishes. My tears lasted the whole way home.
Most recently, I am part of a writers group which consists of 3 other women whom I first knew through some avenue of homeschooling; this group has been a major source of creative and emotional support over the past year. We meet, we laugh, we eat, we go to the movies, and sometimes we even write. When you share your writing, you share everything. You trust with the truth. These girls have become my go-to safety net and Ultimate Truth Tellers.
What I did 8 years ago for my kid was what he needed and deserved.
What I did 8 years ago for my kid was one of the best things I ever did for myself.
Who knew?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)