my homeschool era

I’m home-schooling my eldest for the final half-term of his primary school experience.

A mere 5 weeks till he’s done, then he’s to secondary school. My brain can’t compute how he’s nearly twelve, that twelve years have flashed by. I’ve wanted to home-school for years but there’s always been some career thing that wasn’t really a thing but I made it a thing and I could have done this before! I really could have spared that time.

But I was too desperate, thought I needed to be constantly available. Another thing to add to my BIG LIFE REGRETS list….(I add one thing a day)

My youngest was in his little dressing towel-gown after the bath and as I dried his legs and helped him get pants and socks on he said

“would you still love me if I was half-demon half-boy?”

He had tears in his eyes, he looked at me so directly, pupil to pupil – with unblinking, begging eyes, thinking my answer would be no, but it would be yes! – of course it would be yes – if there was still half of him in there? yes, forever and ever! but then I thought of watching Adolescence – I can still recall whole scenes and dialogue – I am still affected by it months and months later… and I thought ….would I still love my child if that happened? we assume that kind of thing won’t happen to our children, but it could –

I leave my eldest two downstairs after we go up to bed sometimes on the weekend – they could be watching things we haven’t approved. We could be ruining them already, because I didn’t want to fall asleep on the sofa and trusted they would be “good kids” and go to bed independently, responsibly.

Maybe I’m homeschooling because I want to keep him innocent for as long as possible, just one more summer before he is surrounded by phones at the school bus stop…. maybe I’m homeschooling because I want an excuse to analyse fairytales and draw and read during the day.

With my new teacher role, I have become interested in Shakespeare for the first time in my life. I’m making him learn All The Worlds A Stage monologue and refraining myself from giving my intense dramatic performance critique.

We start the day with morning pages.

He likes that he doesn’t need to read it back and that no one will be marking it. While he’s next to me writing nonsense or lyrics or what his dreams are made of I write lists for myself, which is not what morning pages are meant to be for, they are meant to be free of admin and bullet points and be FREE thought…. but I don’t know when I was last able to have free thoughts. My thoughts are militant and ordered.

My lists are the same every day, but I don’t read them back, so don’t know what’s been done or forgotten. Things like “try to maintain positive energy” and “money will come later, but check there’s some money now” and “JUST FILL OUT THE FORMS” because there seems to be more and more forms to fill in with age.

I dread the mail. It’s always bad. My son had the job of opening my mail today, to inform me of my next smear test. Last week, in London, he helped do the lighting for some filming I was doing for Mothersl_ts in a little theatre so I don’t look washed out.

He’s also had the job of setting up our podcast, Before We Break Up Again. He’s learning vital skills!

I’ve always imagined myself as a more promiscuous Miss Honey, but he’s calling me Miss Luteal – a name bestowed on me by Alfie. Now, me and my son have a running joke or many running jokes, jokes I now understand I didn’t have time for when he was at school.

Because the reality is - you don’t have much time with them when they’re at school.