My sister is enrolling Sylvie in preschool next year. She will turn three in October. Frankie will be four in September and I am thinking I will still keep her home next year. I am conflicted about the idea of school in general. On the one hand, I want nothing more than to have a break from playing baby dragons. On the other hand, as Frankie grows, she actually is becoming more and more delightful. If they had school for children between the ages of twelve months and three and a half years, I would be all over that. I'd be like, here you go, call me when she's intelligent enough not to get madder than a hornet when you remove tin foil from her mouth. But right now, Frankie is old enough that we can read 'Charlotte's Web' together and she can play in the basement by herself and we can watch her favorite show, 'Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee', together. I personally hated elementary school. I was that pitiable combination of high-achiever and goody-two-shoes that made other children throw footballs at my head and trip me in the hallway. The other children positively terrified me, except in small groups, wherein I would immediately begin bossing them around.
Yet, despite my misgivings about real school, home schooling seems quite daunting. First and foremost because it would require me to relearn the difference between cumulus and cirrus clouds and think of crafts to make involving tissue paper, but second, because Frankie is so resistant to being taught. You can't let her catch even the slightest whiff of your instructional intent or she clams up and pretends she can't hear you cheerfully reviewing vowels.
Let's face it, I am between a rock and a hard place. I don't want to let her go, but I don't know if I can stand having her at home.