The Littlest Hopkins

I started homeschooling about a quarter of a century ago. Really! It was about 25 years ago when I was merrily living along, being a young mom, minding my own business, when I got a call from the local public school, where my 3 boys attended.

Little did I know what I was in for! Seems one of my sons was having a hard time in school. Having trouble concentrating. Having trouble sitting still and focusing on workbooks for 8 hours. I should have taken a clue then.

What followed were consultations with the teacher, consultations with the principal, reading tests, all kinds of evaluations . . . with the final result being that my son would have to retake 4th grade because he had gotten lost, fell between the cracks, when it came to reading. If he was to move on to 5th grade, he'd have to catch up on reading. I remember feeling devastated. I had been under the impression that I was supposed to keep the home fires burning, and they were supposed to educate my child. I was in for some surprises.

I remember in one of the consultations, the principal and the teacher were trying to explain things to me and when I asked why my son had got lost in the reading program, the teacher replied, "Mrs. Hopkins, I have 31 children to teach. I cannot focus on your son." I distinctly remember the impression that came to my heart: "I only have 4 children. I can certainly focus on my son."

So I hurried down to the local school supply store and bought the very reading book program that the school had used. I got the principal to agree to retest my son at the end of 6 weeks. If he was up to par, they would promote him to the next grade when fall came and school resumed. If not, he would be held back.

I started in on the reading book. Ugh, this is hard. They were trying to teach him to read without any tools. The big words, like grasshopper were easy for him to remember, to memorize. But how was he supposed to figure out a word like "hear"? He had no tools, no phonics to help him. He had been taught "sight words". He had no means to remember all the words that had been piled on him that year. I found myself resorting to some reading tricks that my own mother had repeated to me. Like this one: "When 2 vowels go walking, the first does the talking." I taught this little rhyme to my son, and suddenly he could figure out how to read "hear". 2 vowels. The first says its alphabet name. The second says nothing. Eureka! He grasped the idea. With just one simple phonics tool under his belt, he made progress.

To make a long story short, after just a few weeks of summer, reading daily and working with my son, he was making leaps and bounds of progress. He was retested by the school, and passed with flying colors. He would be accepted into the next grade come fall time!

Only, something had happened inside me. I had realized that I was a better teacher for my child than the situation he had been in at public school. For one thing, I loved him more. For another, my teacher/child ratio was amazingly small. Even more revealing, the types of books and programs they were using in the school made it nearly impossible for him to learn to read. I scrapped those expensive school books and went looking for something that would be fun, and would give him vital skills.

I still had not heard the word "homeschool" yet, nor did I ever consider such an outlandish idea! I was only trying to get him ready to go back to school in the fall.

One night I was on my knees, asking Heavenly Father what to do, and a very crystal clear impression came to me: "Take him out!" I remember asking, "Take him out of what into where?" The unthinkable had been thunk. Once the concept dawned upon my mind, I was voracious for information. I had not even heard about crazy people who taught their children, keeping them out of the school system. (Remember, this was the '70s!)

So, I became a pioneer. I started homeschooling. My older son had just received the President's Honor Award for his academic excellence in his grade at school. When he found out what I was going to do for his brother, teaching him at home, he begged to be included.

"Why?" I asked. You just won the "smartest award". I thought you liked it!

His answer was innocent: "I didn't think there was any other choice."

So, with such an unceremonious and unintentional beginning, I have been homeschooling for a quarter of a century. And loving it! Homeschooling has not so much to do with academics, but plenty to do with loving your children, being their bestest friend, playing together, reading together, learning together. . . sharing your life with them. It has been a growing experience for us both.

I am so happy to share my experiences with you in my homeschool blog.

—Diane Hopkins