Flew the Coop?

I've been posting quite a bit about co-op lately because we both have this meeting looming and because it has been such an uneasy thought to me in many ways. Tonight I decided that this really isn't going to work for us with the direction it is going. The meeting was also another installment in my master lesson of the year about how you have to look out for yourself, because no one else is. I typically have trouble cutting my losses when the writing is on the wall, and as I was talking to Kerry and describing the big mess that was the planning of this meeting, I realized that I don't need to stick around when things are overly sticky; I can just remove myself from the entire situation. This was a hard lesson back in LLL before we moved--meeting after meeting, elephant in the room after elephant in the room, obfuscated references after obfuscated references, constantly wondering, "Is it me?" Kerry, who listened to me go on for hours, usually in the middle of the night, about my conjectures on this or that, would look at me and frankly ask, "If it's so much grief for you, why don't you just drop out? Why volunteer to do something that is nothing but trouble." And I'd answer with all of these "Well..." responses. Mostly I fear that if I pull out of something, I'll lose contact with everyone I know and be cast adrift in the vast sea of loneliness out there. But you know what, sometimes that's better than having a false sense that you even know what's going on.

So I have a lot of reasons for pulling out of the co-op that is being planned. The general feeling of tension in discussing the who, what, where, when, why, and how of it. Most importantly, I'm over the mucked up communication and feeling like too much is happening behind the scenes, and that I'm out of the loop and that there is much exclusivity. And maybe more than that, the negative emotions it evokes for me about my own children--the sense that they aren't good enough behaviorally, intellectually, and academically--well, these are not healthy. When it really comes down, I homeschool so that I can make them have a positive experience living and learning, so that they can play to their strengths and not be constantly indicted for their weaknesses, and so that they feel confident that they are competent, interesting people. Why intentionally place yourself in settings where you and they come away feeling that they are not good enough, that others are talking about them and you behind your back (and to your face...), and where you know that you all piss off and irritate people? Duh. If you have a choice, especially seeming infinite choice, why not unplug and try to find a place where you do fit in...or at least the next landing spot until you wear out your welcome there?

That said, I'll admit that I am tossing around the idea of school, even though I've always seen myself as a committed homeschooler. There are a couple of facts I can't dispute: They were very successful in preschool. They were beloved by their teachers, they were popular among their peers, and until the last few weeks each year, they loved to go. No matter how problematic they seemed at home, whether in behavior or other skills, I always had reassurance from the preschool teachers and director that they were exceptional, personable, bright, and well-liked. Whenever they are in a setting where they are with current elementary school teachers, they have unanimously been loved and encouraged. I've even...hold your breath here, numerous times had Frances, the one I had given up as forever blonde, called "really smart" by people who actually have spent time with large groups of five year olds. I wonder sometimes if I am denying my children an opportunity to be where they can really be appreciated for who they are and have opportunities to shine. Particularly with Frances, I wonder if she wasn't seen and treated as "behind" or "not smart" if she would totally rise to the occasion. For this year I have had her in kindergarten classes in places like Sunday School and wherever else I have needed to declare a grade. She has worked hard in a mixed-age art class. She has thrived beyond my expectations. I haven't "done school" with her this year, but now we're starting on a first grade math book and she is so excited for herself. She is a hard worker, a bit of a perfectionist. But she has a lot of energy. And she doesn't read yet and doesn't care. An she definitely does not come across as nerdy; quite the opposite, she comes across as brainless and hyperactive. But this year I want to see as her year, the time when she is most definitely not the hanger-on, the sibling that came with, but someone who can hold her own. Homeschooling doesn't always give her that opportunity because she doesn't *look* like someone you'd want in your class with your "smart" kids, but I have this inkling that if I found myself a brand new venue and placed her in a same-age peer class that she might just surprise me and other people. And the thing about school is, they'll do that for her because they have to.

Walter and Ollie...whoa, are they the same old story or what?! Bad to the bone, energy without bounds, mouths that know no tact or decency. But what if they were in an environment where there has been and will be worse than they are? What if they weren't the resident trouble makers? What if they didn't have to spend all day with me! What if they, too, turned out to be more competent than they appear? Oh, how the world loves the child who is studious, quiet, and self-controlled. What if this is how they turned out to be if they were in a setting that valued this and motivated them? Would I be in a close personal relationship with the principal? Or would I find that they were actually children teachers wanted to have in their class?

Right now I think I'm just nervous that I may be losing what I had considered my support network, but it was so clear as I was talking to Kerry tonight that it's not really supporting you if, well, to put it really bluntly, you and your children are disliked. When things like this happen, I tend to jump to the conclusion that if we can't fit one place, we can't fit anywhere (and believe me, we've burned plenty of bridges in our time...who could have prepared me for how being a parent would put me in positions I never dreamed I'd be in!). But I'm doing my best to see this like dating: keep at it, there's probably someone for everyone out there. Dumped once doesn't mean forever alone. I will fill my head with positive thoughts that we can find a niche before resorting to dropping this amazing freedom we have altogether.