Part of my kid's homeschooling curriculum includes reading a lot of poetry. It's so interesting, I almost forgot how much I loved poems growing up. In high school, I would constantly write poems. Poems about love, about disappointment, failure, death, or attempted death. I was very emo to say the least.
So homeschooling so far (week three done, starting week four) has been going and has had its ups and downs. Mostly, I'm nervous about whether they're learning anything, definitely more than public school, but enough to make this endeavour worthwhile? Verdict isn't out yet. I've definitely noticed which of my children may actually most definitely benefit from this set-up in the long run. I'm not sure about the others quite yet.
I Wonder.
It wasn't easy.
It wasn't hard.
It just kind of became.
But do they see me? Do they hear me? Or am I like the blurred blare of a voice they can't make out?
This feels right. This feels like my time. But not as much when I'm losing my voice yelling.
Frustrated. Dejected. Tired.
Happy. Proud. Accomplished.
I wonder.
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