What a 17 Year Old Makes in America

Kenosha. 

A small town in Illinois with industrial plants, strip malls, a ULINE branch, corn fields, forest preserves and beautiful rivers is now the focal point of the racial disparities in America. For our family, it was where we would stop at Starbucks at 6:30am to fill up on caffeine for a long day at a swim meet in neighboring Pleasant Prairie at the RecPlex, a gorgeous facility with an olympic pool, fitness facilities and indoor ice rink. We could get to Kenosha from Chicago in an hour flying up I-94, the Edens Expressway.

Yesterday, a Chicagoland friend posted a picture of an armored military vehicle on the expressway through Illinois captioned, "Counted like 20 headed north on 294 - probably to Kenosha WI Praying for peaceful night."

Today, I walked into the room to wake up my girls. The 17 year old is asleep on her camping mat, twisted up with a sleeping bag, and the one who turns 16 next week is stretched out on the bed in blissful rest. Seeing their peaceful expressions eases my soul. I need this moment every morning, because being a parent today is a high anxiety job. In fact, so many of my daughters' Gen Z and Millennial friends know this; they know it so well that quite a number have already decided they don't want to raise children of their own. They refuse to raise children in the world that we are making.

Wise words from contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura come to mind as I think of what a 17 year old makes in America today. He writes from the perspective of an art teacher asking children in a classroom, "What do you want to make today?" His analysis of this question is critical for our world at this very moment - our world that has been concentrated through the lens of Kenosha, Wisconsin where a 17 year old took a military-like long gun and shot and killed Kenosha residents, 26 year old Anthony Huber and 36 year old Joseph Rosenbaum (donate towards his burial expenses). On August 26, 2020, this 17 year old, self-identified "Militia member" from Antioch, Illinois chose what he would make: tragedy.

In my classroom, when I asked five, 15-year-old girls what their ideal qualities would be in a future spouse, their top two comments were that the person would smell nice and wasn't addicted to video games. Priorities relating to being a good person or sharing their faith convictions came after that. Young people in our country are under attack, and when a 17-year-old in America cannot be a maker of creativity, they will become a maker of destruction. According to those who know him, the Kenosha shooter viewed himself as a helper of the police and a good citizen. The Militia Movement intentionally persuades young people towards these ideologies, calling them "public defenders". How many hours a day did this 17 year old young man spend firing a weapon virtually? Is it possible that my daughter's friends have played video games with this Illinois high schooler who is now facing criminal charges, including reckless and intentional homicide? 

Radicalization is the risk that our society faces when young people are not given ways to be makers of good. As Father Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries has claimed in his work with youth in gangs, "Nothing stops a bullet like a job." Narratives that demonize one group while elevating another dominate the Gen Z and Millenial social media themes, and it goes in many ways to extremes.

Everyday, my daughters engage in controversial conversations with their "followers" and "friends" about content in social media stories and the things that members of their generation are "making." The thread of hopelessness is increasingly woven through these digital platforms.

What used to be images of dance, art, food, the park, the lake, humor, music, and other joyous, young ventures are now frequently political, accusatory, and demanding posts: the demands of a generation who believes that they have been robbed. This sentiment might be the singular point of agreement for the fractured views of Generation Z: regardless of their ideology they feel the world has wronged them.

Art Professor Fujimura explains, "To ask 'what do you want to make today?' is not an idealist's escape from reality. To ask 'what do you want to make today?' is a quiet resistance against the destructive fears dominating our world; refusing to submit to the inevitability of corruption in our ideologies."

Parents, many of you are tirelessly guiding your children towards being makers of creativity. This is creative resistance and a powerful way of protest because it supports thriving in spite of our society's failures. My heart soars when I see videos posted of my family and friends' children making music, art, playing sports, writing, reading books, going hiking and camping, performing in theater and enjoying the greatest of pleasures in life, like friendship.

Gen Z, do not feel guilty if you are not posting what is trending! Justice is not a short-lived trend. We need to turn our culture upside down. Post the beauty that you are MAKING today! Make things that stand in the gap for those who are less privileged than ourselves. I am not asking you to ignore injustices, racism, gender violence and misogyny, or the mockery that is our media. No! I am calling upon MAKERS OF CREATIVITY to be the louder voices, louder than the makers of destruction.

Before you withdraw you're kid from school, read this.

It was a glittery, successful week when I last wrote that holy-grail review of homeschooling. Now, it's reality-check time! Homeschooling has a lot of downsides, and my last post didn't even hint at them.

After a school-related tragedy, when lives are lost and the schools feel especially unsafe, I always hear chatter about homeschooling. "You're so lucky you don't have to send your kids to a place where you don't know that they'll be okay." "If only I could homeschool my kids." Now, I'm seeing ads for bullet-proof backpacks.

I'm devastated for the families who lost their precious children as a result of senseless violence. My teen went back to her public high school after the Parkland, Florida shooting the one year we decided to enroll her in The Institution. It crossed my mind to check that they were using the metal detectors, and yes, I was more worried than usual, but I don't think homeschooling would guarantee my child's safety. Even more importantly, is trying to protect my children a sound reason to choose homeschooling?

Wisdom from a representative at the HSLDA (Home School Legal Defense Association) has guided my thinking on this from the first year we decided to pursue this path. He explained that there are two types of homeschoolers: vision-driven and fear-driven. He opened his speech with a question:

"Who do you see standing in front of you when they turn 18?" 

Parents who were "vision-driven" could answer this with hopes, dreams, and plans for their son or daughter's education and future. "Fear-driven" parents were responding to tragedy, bullying, culture-wars, school system failures or abuse, but they didn't have direction. They were sheltering.

Confession: I started out as "fear-driven". 
Things were going so wrong at school. My older kid was getting a "D" in math because even though she could answer all the questions, she was too distracted to get work done. My younger one was exposed to an emotionally-disturbed child's bullying and it was devastating her self-confidence. Something had to change, but homeschooling was a big pill to swallow. We spent the first year floundering. I loved sitting and drinking hot cocoa on cold mornings watching the school buses and cars with kids passing by. We would read together and study passages and I would make up curriculum as we went. It helped that I had taught high school, but they were 1st and 2nd graders. I didn't know what to do with them!

Everyday is a day that I question myself, including today. There are many days when I want to quit. Every year we ask ourselves again, should we homeschool? We always wonder if we are doing enough, the right stuff, and if this is working for our kids. We fear that they won't get into college or achieve their dreams because we missed something.

Tomorrow is the first day of our homeschool community. My 16 year old will be in a class of three students learning Shakespeare and Formal Logic, Chemistry and U.S. history. She will be taking classes at the community college to bolster her way towards graduation. My almost 15 year old has spent her one week off this summer cleaning out her folders and gathering her courage for a school year of literature, dissections, and hours upon hours of ballet - her chosen career path. I've never been a first-hand witness to young people with such laser-focused commitment. They overwhelm me with their talent, intelligence and thoughtfulness and I have had the chance to watch them bloom before my own eyes.

But there are days when it seems so messed up. Days come when they say and do things that tell me that I screwed them up or that our curriculum has failed. Maybe school would have been just as right and I could have pursued my ambitions and provided a second income. Maybe they would have had opportunities to try studio arts or robotics or make different friends or join a club. Maybe they would have a varsity letter and prom pictures, a valedictorian tassel or at least a real, big commencement ceremony and a grad night.

So, here it is. An honest, 20/20 hindsight about why it isn't the best idea for every family. It's a list of things that we have stumbled over, cried about, and discussed ad nauseam with our homeschool communities. It's the downside of homeschool - the doubts and frustrations we overcome to do what is counter-cultural and non-conforming.

Reason #1: Homeschooling IS your job.

I was warned that one of the hardest parts of homeschooling will be that others will not recognize that you are not free - as in "available" during the day. They will ask if you can hang out, volunteer, work, talk on the phone, go shopping, work out. They will ask if you can visit during the school week, make a trip. The biggest problem is that I didn't accept this fact myself until years into it.

I tried to homeschool while running my own business. I was trying to manage my payed workers, my home, my kids, my clients, products, website, and accounting all the while doing history, science and literature lessons. It has been incredibly difficult for me to "just homeschool". My job description will still say "homemaker". Ultimately, I have had to drop my commitments (and my pride) and take my homeschooling on as a full-time job. Now I have found the joy in it and the opportunity to mend the gaps in my own personal education and enrichment as I learn alongside my students. They deserve and require an undivided commitment. You ARE the school.

Reason #2: Transiency of families in homeschool programs.

People who homeschool often do so for the flexibility which can lead to families coming and going. Whether it is the mobility to uproot and move for job opportunities, because the world is a classroom and they don't stay anchored, homeschooling burnout, the kids want to attend school, health or family crises, and so many more reasons, the dynamic enrollment in the co-ops and group/community programs creates instability for the homeschooler's relationships. There are few groups where a child can grow up together with other kids in a cohort. Making and losing friends every year is only a part of this grief. For the parents, there is always the question of whether or not their child will have a class the next year. Continuity is not guaranteed.

Reason #3: Your house is school.

Clearing our dining room table is a monumental task. We live in a 1925 brick bungalow that has a living room, dining room and small kitchen. I don't have my own office. Everywhere I turn there is a pile of some academic exercise, whether it is a book to read, a computer with a paper in progress, posters and art supplies, or a bin full of science supplies. I could probably organize it all and compartmentalize, but I'm too busy making lesson plans and reading the Latin text. Who has the time to set up a shelf and make bins for my paperwork?

Reason #4: Record-keeping.

I love teaching. I love learning. But paperwork is the bane of my homeschool existence. Documentation requires self-discipline and accountability on the part of the parent. The fantastic thing is that I do the lessons with my students everyday. I read their work. I listen to them think aloud. Assessment is on the spot. I don't have to run scantrons to determine if they have mastered something. I thought this subjective assessment was inaccurate, but the truth is that when my eldest entered school, her performance matched what I had graded on her transcript. In fact, she exceeded my assessment. My insecurities as the teacher made me grade her harder, setting a much higher standard than the school required to earn the "A". But don't audit me for their binders of work and the graded math assignments. It's a mess.

Reason #5: Parent/Child and Teacher/Student burnout.

There are no bells. There is no truancy officer. It's all you. Your alarm clock. Your integrity. November is a bugger. The energy is low, the assignments are hard, the reading is boring, and the weather is cold. Every week you pack the car, fight with the kids, unload your classroom into the meeting location, teach class, reload the car, crash at the end of the day. You wake up on Tuesday knowing that the rest of the week you have to get all the work done in the quiet of home. The refrigerator calls you out of boredom. The sofa is like a magnet for nap time. All the female hormones cycle together. There is drama at the extracurricular activities and nobody can concentrate. Every lesson gets on the nerves of the learner or the teacher. Tears fall and procrastination sets in. Deadlines come and more tears fall. It's all on you.

Reason #6: Algebra.
What can I say? People thought they only had to do this once in life. No offense, math teachers. Everyone's got their thing. Fill-in yours. (Actually, I love algebra. It's Latin that kills me.)

Reason #7: Limited worldview.
Indoctrination is bred in the confines of domesticated humanity. Curricula indoctrinate. Our schools indoctrinate. And yes, our homeschool program indoctrinates. It falls upon the parent to open wide the windows to the world and develop a conscience that transcends the narrow-mindedness of the untraveled, unread soul.

Reason #8: You are your own accountability.

Figure this one out for yourself.

Reason #9: Choosing curriculum.

The volumes with the options for curricula are larger than the largest printed phonebooks of the 1980s. Fate will guide you. But, you will always question it because how can you be an expert in everything? My conscience rests knowing that my job is to equip a lifelong learner, not teach them everything.

Reason #10: Your mother is your only teacher.

When I'm an introvert and my child is an extrovert. Tea is our peacemaker. Truth be told, we have tutors in our homeschool community and co-ops are out there. They are in sports and arts and take classes in other places where they get other leadership influences and teaching styles. However, most of the days of the week, months of the year, years upon years, it's us. We actually like each other most of the time. It works. We have learned to play together, eat together, vacation together, and yes, study together. But there are days. Those are the days when I start searching kayak.com for flights and the kids snapchat their friends in a corner at the back of the house. And then, they get a driver's license, a job, and can ride the train without me. We barely see each other. And in two years, one will likely go off to college and the other to a ballet company.

Anyone can homeschool, but not everyone should. As for me, I don't regret it one bit.

Homeschooling Just Isn't Normal.

"Mom, sometimes I just wonder if I am not a normal kid."
"You're not a normal kid."

We've hit that point. 13! We've homeschooled since 1st grade and she has finally found us out. We're weird...really weird! Of course, when we made the decision in the first place, weirdness was a big factor to consider. There were past impressions we had to overcome to be convinced that homeschooling wasn't a direct path to social exclusion. We had to be certain our girls wouldn't be like THOSE homeschoolers.

(Um, yeah. That's our family.)

Like, there was the extremely awkward, introverted girl who didn't fit in with the other high school girls in the church group I led 20 years ago. She was educated by computerized curriculum and lived in the sheltered environment of a home completely absent of any male presence - with her grandmother, single mother and enthusiastically happy sister. She gravitated to me, the adult, and told me she could care less about the kids who didn't already believe in Jesus. I guess when one of my small group girls told us that she had had an abortion, I could see the distance between their social orbits. She did go off to college - a small, Christian one - and I'm hoping the world opened her eyes and her heart.

Thankfully, when we hit speed bumps in the public school system and saw our daughters sinking into failure, it just happened that some "normal" homeschoolers came across our path - like in a musical, dancing and singing a song that related exactly to what we were thinking about at that moment. After a few years, we've come to learn that these individuals were only marginally normal, much like ourselves, which brings me to the point of this whole rant: We didn't choose to homeschool so that our kids would turn out like everyone else.

It isn't that "everyone else" isn't wonderful, amazing and successful. It's that we saw unique opportunities to do stuff with our kids that the school wasn't going to do. We took the alternate route and hoped that it was the best one for our girls.

This year, we doubted our decision. We had our eldest take the standardized tests and admissions exam and another admissions exam and turn in a report card (which I made up based on my subjective opinion of her ability as her primary teacher. When you sit there with your kids and read everything they do, you know if they've got it or not.) Anyway... Lo and behold! She got into the very selective high school ranked #5 in Illinois and #156 in the US by U.S. News. Are we happy now?!

And what you really want to know is, is she "normal"?

Frankly, NO! She's a fish out of water (Oddly, she is a freshman swimmer on their Varsity championship swim team, but I digress.) As a former educator observing my homeschooled child navigate the school experience, I have grown cringingly aware of a crippling defect in American education (And no, of course it's not my child. She's perfection, okay?):

Public education doesn't teach young people HOW to think. It teaches them WHAT to think. That is not education, it is indoctrination, and is a topic for a different blog post. (Please comment if you'd like me to post about it.) Thankfully, there are some exceptions, teachers who strive to educate and foster the love of learning, but they are sprinkled in between assessments, perfunctory homework assignments, and worksheets that reiterate the textbooks. Content is the goal, not thinking. The educational standards delineate this content: "Such and such content in 5th grade, such and such for 8th grade, etc." The kids who thrive, think, and achieve beyond the institutional standards have outside influences working in their favor, and often have families who invest in their character development and passion for learning.

But off the soapbox and back to weirdness. She's totally odd. She's been asked if she is a vegetarian, a Lutheran, and a lesbian all in the same week. She kindly answered that she's straight, loves meat, is not a Lutheran and just likes wearing long skirts and a pixie cut. They can't put her in a social "box" because homeschoolers don't usually brand themselves the way mainstream kids do. This child voluntarily closed her Snapchat account because it was annoying.

Are they socially awkward? Maybe. They shake hands with adults, look you in the eye, put their phones away during dinner (most of the time), play with babies, talk politics, listen to music from previous decades and make jokes about literature. I guess that's kind of awkward these days.

One of the girls is a social butterfly obsessed with 80s music, a blooming artist, a pre-professional ballerina, AND she's a natural at math and reading people. My other one prefers books to humans, can sing like a Broadway vocalist, writes like a college English professor and would live in an aquarium if given the choice, especially if the meal plan was all fish-based. Our family loves each other and to spend time together, learn together, goof off together, and travel together. As parents, we've been re-educated, by our kids and with our kids.

So, I guess we aren't normal, and I wouldn't have it any other way.