It’s that time of year, where I embrace my homeschoolerness and attend the “convention”. This time I went with my buddy Brooke, and she had babysitters for all our kids, which was super fancy and way easier than what I usually do for events like this. We had scored free admission to this Gigantor Homeschool Explosion Fest, and we just went to the book fair part of it, because neither one of us want homeschooling advice, because we’re not broken down enough yet.
Right off the bat, we walk in and there are teenagers in full Shakespearean costume. It’s an interesting thing: I would have totally worn that in high school, but now (and even then) I have this inner bully that kind of wants to beat them up. Not literally. But just… sometimes when I see teenagers doing kind of dorky stuff, I get this little sick feeling because oh my gosh I was such a dork. And also I was awesome and hilarious. But such a dork. And yet, I am stoked to sign my kids up for a theater program. I might need therapy.
When you go to events like this with a friend, you try to hang out together but different stuff sucks you in. Brooke spent a half-hour weeping over the blurbs on the back of the YWAM missionary biographies, and I wandered around and had conversations with awkward people, about a variety of things. Oh, and I spent a LONG time chatting with a librarian, because that’s how I roll.
Now that I’ve settled on a model that looks more like unschooling, I’m less drawn to all the workbooks (although I will use some textbooks) and more drawn to the build-your-own-working-rocket or robot-picker-upper-thingy. And here’s another dichotomy: the ultra-earnest young teenagers who explain this device or other stuff like it: on one hand, I know this is Toby in a couple of years, and his politeness and knowledge is super cool. On the other hand, I want to mess up his bowl cut and buy him some jeans.
I’ve talked about this before, and I imagine at some point it will be out of my control, because Toby is my dad, and my dad dyed all of his clothes purple (because he liked purple) and cut his own hair and got beat up every day at school and then went to college at 16. And Toby will do awesome stuff, and I will be super proud and maybe a little embarrassed.
Basically everyone I expected was there, the “Duggar” prototype, with the perm and the skirts, the “granola” family with the Birkenstocks and spotless khaki baseball caps, the Mennonites with the handmade dresses and bonnets, the “Who, me? I’m not homeschooled” teen girls in their rumspringa, wearing almost provocative v-necks and knee length skirts, and then us, people like us (homeschool/Christian school geeks who have learned how to fake coolness, or so we think).
Brooke wasn’t going to buy anything, so she left with about 24 books. I didn’t buy anything, because Imma be all up in the interwebs for my books, but I did score a free singalong CD to learn the 23rd Psalm and 1st and 2nd Samuel. I think I’ll teach it to my kids and then set up a roadside stand with lemonade and gospel literature. And singing. Bible singing. Maybe haircuts.