School at Home Hopeful

I have always told all of my closest friends, to slap me silly if I ever started talking about wanting to home school my children. But this past week, my 7th grade daughter started attending a state-operated virtual school. It's not really homeschooling - thank goodness - or a few more people should have questioned my judgment.

After one week attending virtual school from the privacy of our own home, I can't say we have it all figured out. I can say my daughter seems as relieved, happy and enthused as she has been since the third grade with the formal learning process.

I just hope the school knows that along with my extremely bright, ADD daughter, they're getting me, this person they deem a "learning coach" who as logic sometimes would have it, has ADD too. As far as our nation's youth is concerned, I find the concept of me being a teacher in a classroom downright hysterical. Undoubtedly, my students and I would have a blast, but eventually the parents would complain. They would have good reason; I would rarely, and then only in part attend to those not-so-minor details, such as grading and returning tests and homework.

My youngest daughter is bright, funny and sparkly.She thinks profoundly before breakfast and throughout the day, often when she is supposed to be cleaning her room or trying to remember what she forgot. Her night time dreams, often relayed to me in vivid detail when she needs to be out the door in 10 minutes, undoubtedly could give J.J. Abrams his next hit show.

She twirls around the house as if she was three years old, then will whimsically dovetail into an engaging conversation worthy of a Phd candidate.With a little TLC, she is a fabulous student; but if things aren't perfect, she swiftly calls herself a failure.

In the 7th grade, about the same time I did, she has "hit the wall" with her ADD where the minutia that is a major part of everyday life stops her in her tracks. She wants to read everything written by Jane Austen, write novels, discuss the benefits of vegetarianism, stare at the ceiling and go on an African safari. But she will only make a bed, finish a boring assignment, or put something away, if I make her do it myself, which often turns out to mean, doing it myself. She could care less about your routine adolescent privileges.  I could take away food, shelter, water, television, cell phone, sleep, computer games, and even books. She would still find plenty to live large about in her own little world.

So frankly, I'm afraid we'll make a mess of this virtual school business. More accurately, I'm afraid I will get overwhelmed and will make a mess of it for her. I recall all my own educational "failures," which in spite of lots of therapy, still have a pesky way of telling me I am nuts to be trying this. Vital part of my daughter's educational team? Me? I was thinking I would just have to teach her how to use her hamper and a Blackberry.

This first week, I took a running leap into my new role as "learning coach." My personal balance was pushed aside for the sake of our new agenda. So far, our human teacher at the school is so nice, personable and available, that it makes me want to cry. The visual and intuitive aspects of our virtual learning environment, seem to be perfect for us. This role of learning coach, that I'm sure others make look so easy, perhaps won't be overwhelming even for me. Maybe I'm actually doing something for my daughter that was designed with her, and incidentally her novice learning coach, in mind.

By next week, I'm almost certain I'll still feel more positive about virtual school, than not. I am concerned about getting in over my head, but hopefully, will grasp that I won't have to live in a state of constant over-compensation. I still feel selfish mentioning "my own balance" at all; but I'm working on that.

So perhaps there never was any need to slap me silly - even if this whole effort of trying virtual school turns out to be a bust. No matter what happens, I'm starting to believe I know exactly what I'm doing.